


A Light in the Shadow

by Meraad



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Demons, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Smut, Smut Eventually, Terrible writing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, more smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-28 16:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: Amelia Trevelyan recently acquired the title of Herald of Andraste, along with a mark on her hand that she is still trying to figure out how it works.Now she is trying to save the world, find her sister, and deal with a childhood crush come back to haunt her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for decent writing and well thought out plot development!
> 
> You have come to the wrong place! 
> 
> My plots always sound so much better in my head. Then they just turn into word-vomit.

> _Dear Mia,_
> 
> _I hope that this letter finds you and your family well. I wanted to write and let you know that your dear brother is alive and well, and currently at Haven, commanding the army for the Inquisition. I know how often you bemoan his not writing to tell you these things._
> 
> _Please, don't tell him that I was the one who alerted you to his whereabouts. It would appear that he does not remember me, and at this point, I would prefer to keep it that way. The last thing I need is him looking at me as the girl who was infatuated with him for an entire summer when we were children._
> 
> _Take care,_  
>  _Amelia._
> 
> _P.S._  
>  _I am apparently the Herald of Andraste... Maker save us all._
> 
>  

_Dearest Amelia,_

_I am so happy to hear from you and know that you are alive. Thank you for the information about Cullen. Brothers are such trials. If I do recall correctly, my brother was just as infatuated with you that summer. Utterly besotted. Wasn't there a proposal of marriage?_

_I have been trying to stay updated with the news about the uprising and the Inquisition. How bad is it? The Circles have all fallen I heard. Do you know if Sophia is alright? I worry for her._

_Be safe,_  
_Mia_

_P.S._  
_**You** are the Herald? Oh dear me, we are doomed._

 

>   
>  _Mia,_
> 
> _What in the heavens did you write to Cullen? You'll be pleased to know, he looked properly scolded when he got your letter. As for that summer, it was less of a proposal and more of a command. I think Cullen said yes out of fear._
> 
> _It's bad. I don't know where Sophia is. Josephine and Leliana have been doing what they can to look for her, but they have far more important things they need to be doing. I'm terrified for her. She was safe in the circle, but now I fear she's likely dead._
> 
> _Amelia_
> 
>  

  
_Dear Amelia,_

_You and Sophia are both in my every thought. I hope that she is found safe. I am glad to hear that my dear brother was properly scolded, perhaps next time he will write to me and keep me updated with the goings on in his life._

_Be safe, kick some demon ass, and if it isn't too much trouble, keep an eye out for my foolish brother._  
_Mia_

 

 

> _Dear Cullen,_
> 
> _My sweet, younger brother, I must say I was pleased to receive news that you were alive and well, and not blown up. I would have been more pleased had that news come from **you**. If I do not receive a reply within a timely manor, I will come for a visit to Haven, new babe on my breast and all._
> 
> _Love,_  
>  _Mia_

  
  
_Dear Mia,_

_For the love of the Maker, Mia. I apologize for not writing sooner, but with the explosion of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the resulting reinstatement of the Inquisition, I have been busy. You know I have never had a knack for writing._

_Your brother,_  
_Cullen_

>   
>    
>  _Cullen_
> 
> _All I ask for is that when bad things happen you let me know that you are alive. After what happened at Kinloch Hold, I worry. Please, don't make me go through that again._
> 
> _Mia_

  
  
_Dear Mia,_

_You are right, I am sorry. I will try to do better. I trust that everyone is well?_

_Do you remember that last summer before I left for the Templars? The family that was staying nearby, the older girl, Sophia, I think her name was and you got on quite well if I do remember.  
_

_Cullen_  
  


>   
>  _Cullen,_
> 
> _Everyone here is doing fine and of course I remember them. What made you think of that summer?_
> 
> _Mia_  
>    
>    
> 

_(a crumpled piece of paper – tossed into the trash)_  
_Mia,_

~~_Amelia._~~ _Nothing._

 

Amelia sat back from the desk, stretched her arms up over her head before sighing as she leaned back in the wooden chair. The bird in the cage squawked, drawing Amelia's attention. “No messages, Duchess.” Pushing up from the chair, she crossed the room flipped open the small latch that she knew the bird could release on her own. Amelia had never actually seen her do it, but in the few short months that this bird had been her companion, the cage had been unlatched many times, and a good number of those times, Duchess Aderyn was preening somewhere in Haven. The bird hopped from the cage spread her wings and swooped up onto the window ledge, she paused, head turning to look at Amelia.

“Go, be good,” she gave a little wave of her hand, and the next instant the bird was gone. Amelia curled her fingers into a fist, watched the light of the mark on her hand dim before she turned her hand and spread her fingers. The green glow the was cast over the room gave it an eerie feel. Her stomach twisted. Everyone was counting on her now, because of this mark. She was terrified of it. It hurt and she swore she could feel it spreading through her whole body. Cassandra had said it was killing her before she'd tried to close the breach the first time. Amelia was pretty sure that it still was. Slowly, steadily.

Dressing in the warm gear that Master Harritt had outfitted her in, she then twisted her hair into a braid and braced herself for the cold before shoving open her door. It was still early, few people were up and about. The sun had only just barely begun to rise, though the breach in the sky spit out enough light that Amelia could see just fine as she made her way down to the soldiers camp just outside the gate. She knew that she would find Cassandra there and Amelia could use someone to spar with.

She was grateful that her father had indulged her love of weapons from an early age. Her childhood dreams of being a warrior had been swiftly stomped out by her mother, who had wanted her to be a proper young lady, like Sophia. Sudden tears sprang to Amelia's eyes at the thought of her mother and of Sophia.

“Herald?” Cassandra's voice caught her attention.

“I need to hit something,” Amelia said, and even she heard the desperation in her voice. Cassandra's eyebrows rose, but then she rolled her shoulders and smirked.

“So do I.”

  
Cullen watched the two women, both graceful in their movements. Cassandra with sword and shield, Amelia with the twin dual-bladed daggers. It was a careful dance, but Amelia was beginning to look a little wild-eyed. He wasn't the only onlooker, a crowd had gathered to watch, and he heard quiet wagers being made. Amelia spun away from a blow, hair the color of pitch escaped from the braid. The bets being made weren't so quiet now, arguments being thrown back and forth over who would win.

Crossing his arms over his chest he waited. He wouldn't bet. But if he did, his money would have been on Amelia. Not that he doubted Cassandra's ability. She was formidable. But he knew what was coming. An instant later, Amelia went in for the kill. Sweeping around Cassandra, knocking her feet out from under her, and then Amelia was over her, the blunt dagger against her throat. “Gotcha.”

  
The hoots and hollers from the onlookers had the two women quickly looking up. “Andraste's tits,” Amelia jumped up, chest heaving. She held a hand out and helped Cassandra to her feet, then she turned on the soldiers who were shoving coins this way and that. They'd bet on them? Then her eyes fell on Cullen who was standing in the middle of the chaos, just watching her. She felt her cheeks turn pink at the memory of a similar sparring session with Cullen, so many years ago, where she had knocked him down with the exact same move, only instead of pressing a dagger to his throat, she'd kissed him.

She waited for any sign of recognition in his eyes, but there was nothing. “That was impressive,” he said, inclining his head.

Disappointment roared inside of her. “Thank you,” she told him, unsure why she was so disappointed. That summer had meant so much to her, it was the summer before everything had fallen apart. She had stayed in touch with Mia, and they had kept each other informed of what was happening with the other's family.

Cullen turned, barked a command that had the crowd scattering, and the soldiers quickly falling into formation.

“You're bleeding,” Cassandra told her, glaring at the soldiers.

Amelia reached up and touched her lip. It stung. “I wasn't expecting you to throw an elbow.”

“Well, I didn't expect you to sweep me off my feet.”

Chuckling, Amelia gathered her thick curls back into a braid. “You looked like you needed it, I couldn't help but oblige.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra grunted, but it was halfhearted.

“Thank you, I-” Amelia glanced at the woman who stood a whole head taller than her. “I know I'm not your favorite person, but I will do everything I can to help, no matter what.” They'd had a rough start. Amelia had been confused and angry when she'd woken in the prison cell, but once she'd seen what was truly at stake she'd known she had to fix it.

“I believe that,” Cassandra said.

“My lady,” Leliana said as she approached and Amelia's heart skipped a beat. She had a piece of paper in her hand and a serious look on her face. “I am so sorry,” she murmured holding out the paper.

Amelia's hands were shaking, but somehow she managed to take it. Her eyes flew over the page. Names of those missing and presumed dead out of Ostwick. Her vision blurred, knowing. She blinked rapidly, then finally the name she hadn't wanted to find came into focus. Sophia Trevelyan. “Thank you, Leliana,” her voice cracked.

It was probably quick, she told herself. It was better than her being out and coming up against the apostates or the rogue templars. She was certain neither side would have been kind to her. So many found it difficult to be around the Tranquil.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Why do you continue to visit when it causes you such distress?” The voice was one Amelia loved, and it made her chest ache to hear the lack of inflection. The voice that had once sung her songs and yelled at her.

“Because you are my sister. We are family. It is what you do when you love someone,” _no matter how much it may hurt_. Amelia sat in the small room that Sophia shared with another Tranquil. It held no sign of life. The walls bare. No trinkets on the shelves. Nothing that signified anyone lived in that room. Sophia had always kept a neat appearance, but Amelia remembered that her room had never been tidy. It had always been a mess of things she had collected.

“Mother and father no longer visit.”

They had, _before_. Sophia's magic had made an abrupt appearance and their parents had no choice but to send her to Ostwick. They had been allowed to visit and everything had been fine at first. Then one day, when they had arrived, Sophia was no longer herself.

It was too much for their parents, to see their daughter, with the sunburst brand on her forehead and empty eyes. It had broken both of their hearts, and Amelia was certain it was the root of the cause of her mother's death. Something she hadn't been able to bring herself to tell Sophia about. It was selfish, she knew. Sophia deserved to know. But Amelia knew it wouldn't phase her. She would be indifferent to the information and Amelia couldn't bear the thought of her sister not caring that their mother was dead. “They still love you,” she finally murmured. They sat there in silence again for several minutes before Amelia spoke again. “Do you even care if I visit? What do you do?”

“I am being taught how to enchant items. Having severed my connection to the fade has made me useful. Also, caring would imply feelings and emotions. I have told you before, I feel nothing.”

Amelia curled her hands into fists and clenched her eyes shut. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to shake her sister. Mostly, she wanted her sister back. “You are crying,” Sophia said and Amelia quickly wiped her cheeks.

“I should go,” she said, glancing toward the open door where a Templar stood, waiting. “I'll see you in a few weeks.”

“It is an unnecessary emotional trial on your part,” Sophia stood as Amelia did, hands smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from the front of her dress.

 _Be that as it may_ , she thought. “I love you, Sophia. Maybe I am being selfish, but I need to see you.” She wanted so desperately to hug her sister but knew that despite Sophia's lack of emotion, physical contact made her uncomfortable, well, as uncomfortable as a Tranquil could be.

Sophia looked at the Templar, one that Amelia was familiar with, as he always seemed to be on guard for Sophia. “I shall return to the library to study while you accompany Amelia out.”

He inclined his head and she turned and walked away. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“Would you be? Do you have siblings Nikolaas?” She'd had these small moments with him for years, but had never really spoken to him. He shook his head. “She's the only one I have. She looked after me when we were little, it is only fair that I return the favor.”

“She is doing well, the things she's learning, she has a real talent-” he broke off with an awkward shrug.

“I'm sure she does, Sophia always was the smart one.” Forcing a smile on her face as the reached the first set of doors. “Keep an eye on her, don't let her throw any wild parties.”

Nikolaas reached out and touched Amelia's arm. “She's safe here.”

“I know.”  


  
Amelia thought of the last time she'd seen her sister before the world had gone to Hell in a hand-basket. Had she known that would be the last time she saw her sister she would have hugged her. The paper said _missing and presumed dead_. There was a chance, small as it might be, that Sophia could still be alive. There were apostates in the Hinterlands, as well as all the rogue Templars. But until there was irrefutable proof, Amelia couldn't bring herself to completely give up hope. “Thank you, Leliana,” she murmured again, and the woman gave her a sympathetic look before walking away.

“Your sister was a mage?” Cassandra asked and Amelia nodded. “My brother, Anthony, he is gone as well.”

Amelia looked away from the paper to meet Cassandra's eye. “I'm sorry,” she told her.

“Is there any chance your sister could be with the apostates?”

“She was Tranquil.” Cassandra's silence said it all. The Tranquil didn't care. They would stand in the middle of danger, unfazed. “When do we leave for the Hinterlands?” They had been to Val Royeaux, been invited to Redcliff by Fiona, and still needed to put a stop to the Templars and the Apostates. Maybe close a few dozen rifts while they were at it.

“We can leave tomorrow if you are ready.”

“Good.” Cassandra walked away and left Amelia standing there. She glanced at the soldiers, saw Cullen standing there next to one of the messengers, reading over some report. Absently, she wondered if he would have remembered Sophia. What did it matter? What Amelia really wanted was to hit something again, her sparring with Cassandra had helped until she'd received Leliana's letter.

Drawing in a breath she crossed to where Cullen stood, he glanced at her. “Herald, is there something I can help you with?”

“We'll be leaving for the Hinterlands in the morning, facing Apostates and rogue Templars, do you have any advice for me?”

He dropped his hands to his sides, the report momentarily forgotten. “Don't let your guard down, not even for a moment. The reports that we've received show that neither side has any regard for innocent bystanders. They attack anyone and everyone.”

“You were a Templar,” she said quietly and he sighed.

“I was, and it shames me to see how far so many have strayed from the path. The Templars were meant to be something good, to protect people,” he stopped speaking and Amelia noticed his ears turning pink. “Excuse me, I didn't mean-”

“Don't apologize, Commander, I admire your dedication.” She couldn't help but smile. She remembered how he went on and on about becoming a Templar, and what it meant to become one.

He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck, still going redder. “Well, obviously not everyone feels the same way about being a Templar as I did.” He looked at her again, eyes softening. “Be careful out there,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” Amelia inclined her head. “I'll let you get back to work,” she said as another messenger approached.

 

Cullen watched Amelia walk away. He remembered her. How could he not? Her family had been in Honnleath for one reason or another, staying not far from his family home. His sisters had all but dragged the two girls home with them, and that was how the summer went. Amelia and Sophia were there nearly every day.

Amelia had listened with such rapt fascination as he told her about leaving to join the Templars once the summer was over. He sparred with her at her insistence, like his siblings had, though he'd gone easy on her at first, not wanting to hurt her. She had quickly corrected his notion that just because she was of noble birth, she wouldn't know how to fight.

He would never forget the day before Amelia and her family left. He had been sparring with Amelia, Sophia off somewhere with his sisters. Her hair had been a wild tangle of those almost black curls, and she'd been smiling. He thought he had her this time. Would have, if he used brute strength. But then she'd swept her foot behind his legs, and in the next moment he'd been flat on his back, and she'd been over him, smiling victoriously.

Then she had kissed him. It was clumsy in the way of first kisses. He hadn't known what to do for a few heartbeats, had just laid there, but then he pressed his lips back to hers and his hands had found her waist. Then Rosalie had come screeching around the corner, screaming something about a spider, and the kiss was over.

  
He had not recognized her when he first saw her at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She'd changed, grown up, the gangly girl was now a woman, and the only survivor of the explosion. After she'd done her part initially to close the breach, she had lain unconscious for days. Like the others, he'd visited her bedside, spoke with Solas and the healers who were tending to her. Cullen had stood beside the bed, eyes on her face. Someone spoke her name. “Lady Trevelyan.”

 _Trevelyan_ , he thought. He knew that name, remembered it. Amelia. _Impossible_ , he thought, but it was undeniable. His first crush, his first kiss. The girl he'd been absolutely smitten with for an entire summer and the months that followed, was the person they were depending on to save the world.

Then, when she had woken and had agreed to help, to join the Inquisition, and they had been properly introduced. There had been no sign of recognition on her face. She had barely acknowledged him and he had felt nearly mortified that he'd hoped she would remember him. Why would she?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amelia has a violent streak, and I'm also upping the rating because this story took an unexpected turn later on.

Amelia stared down at the bodies of the dead apostates. Her heart broke over the lives that were so viciously cut down, by apostate, Templar, and she and her companions. But she couldn't allow the two factions to war with each other and kill innocent people just trying to live. But now, the rogue Templars had been stopped and they had just cleared out the apostates hideout. She couldn't help but search each and every face, desperate and terrified to find her sister.

“We should head for Redcliffe, find out what it was Grand Enchanter Fiona wanted.” Even as she said the words, Amelia continued looking at the bodies. If the mages had gone to Redcliffe though, maybe Sophia had made it there. Maybe someone had been looking out for her.

The last thing that Amelia had expected to greet them at Redcliffe was a Tevinter Magister. “It's a trap,” she said of the note Alexius' son had shoved into her hand when he had stumbled into her.

“We should still check it out,”

“Oh, I agree,” Amelia said. She scanned the faces in the tavern, silently hoping she'd find her sister. But no, she didn't. Though she did find something close. A woman whom she thought looked familiar. “You were at Ostwick?” Amelia said as she approached her.

The woman sneered. “Trevelyan.”

“Do you know what happened to my sister? Sophia?”

“I know who your sister is,” her voice filled with disgust. “The Tranquil. I haven't seen her since we left the tower. She's probably dead.”

Amelia knew it was the most likely truth. But this woman, who Amelia didn't know, was saying it to be cruel. “You're right,” Amelia said, hands clenched. “But at least she isn't bound to a bloody magister. Have fun with that.” Then angrily she turned and walked away.

 

“My lady,” Cullen said, voice low as he walked up to stand beside Amelia as she stared down at the map of Thedas. “Are you alright?” Amelia and company had returned from the Hinterlands that afternoon, and he wasn't sure she had left the War Room since their meeting hours earlier. She held a large mug in her hand and wondered who had brought it to her, Josephine most likely.

“What would you do?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the map. “You would ask for the Templars to help.”

He watched her face, saw her brow furrow, and wondered what was going on in her head. “I believe that they can help.”

She gave an absent nod of her head. “I agree, would have chosen them but the mages, they need help. Dorian, the Tevinter, the things he told us-”

“Are not necessarily true.”

“No,” she agreed. “But I felt the rifts, they are different. I can't stand by and just-” her voice hitched. “My sister was in Ostwick.” Cullen blinked in surprise, Sophia had shown no signs of magic that summer, or maybe she had and he'd been too caught up in Amelia to notice. “There were mages from Ostwick at Redcliffe, no one has seen her. Leliana's reports say she's presumed dead. But she is my sister, and I can't help but hope-” She glanced at him and Cullen saw the tears shining in her eyes. “Ser Nikolaas, he was a Templar there, I think that they were quite fond of each other.” She smiled wistfully. “Even after... he still stayed with her, promised me she was safe.”

Cullen didn't like the sound of that. _After? After what?_

“She was Tranquil.”

Cullen hadn't realized he'd voiced the question. “Maker's breath, I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

Her brow furrowed. “How would you?” She looked back at the map.

“You will do what you think is best,” he said, looking at the map, with the pins and markers.

“But what if I'm doing it because I'm selfish? On the off chance that maybe my sister made it out alive. Did you know the oculara are Tranquil's skulls?” She glanced over at him. He hadn't known that, and the very thought sickened him. “That is where they all went, why so few of them have been found. Because they are dead, and their skulls were mounted on poles to illuminate those fucking shards.”

She took a long drink from her mug, then looked into the depths of it, as if maybe it held the answers she sought. Cullen began to wonder if it were tea, or something a whole lot stronger. “I stared at one of those skulls for hours, wondering if it was Sophia's. If she'd suffered. But she's Tranquil. If they'd patted her on the head and told her it was for the greater-good she would have done whatever they asked.” She let out a huff of air. “What if the mages are the wrong choice?”

“You did say they need help, leaving them leashed to that Magister cannot end well.”

“No matter which side I chose, someone loses. Somehow, it will be the wrong choice.”

“I will stand beside whatever decision you make,” Cullen cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck. “We all will, we've continued to ask so much of you, have relied on you to make these choices.” They stood there for several moments longer, before Cullen excused himself. “Don't stand here all day,” he told her as he made his way to the door. “Staring at the map will not solve anything.” As he made his way through Haven to his tent, he was running through his list of contacts. He had different sources than Leliana and Josephine, and they had searched for Sophia, but had they looked for the Templar Nikolaas? It was possible he would have more answers if what Amelia had said was true.

 

Hours later, Amelia called a war meeting and made her decision known. No matter what she knew there would be regrets. But she couldn't help but feel a little grateful with Dorian shoved open the doors to the war room, offering his help.

Preparations were set into motion, and in no time, Amelia found herself standing in front of Magister Alexius, his guards taken out by her troops. Then everything was a blur and Dorian was explaining that they had moved forward in time. “We have to get back,” she said. Not sure how they would manage that. Together they found Bull, Blackwall, and even Fiona. All of them were dying. The red lyrium was killing them.

Amelia shoved open a door and froze. A woman stood in front of a table, covered in red lyrium. The woman looked up, cocked her head. “Amelia,” Sophia said. “You are not supposed to be here.” Then she looked back down at the table and her work.

“Soph-” Amelia's voice cracked. Blonde hair slightly disheveled, brown eyes now radiating red, like Blackwall's and the Iron Bull's. “No, no, not like this.” What was better? Her sister working for the enemy or dead? “What are you doing Sophia?”

“Working. You are not supposed to be here. Alexius will not be pleased. He believes you are dead. You should be dead.”

Amelia couldn't help herself, she crossed the room, grabbed Sophia by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake. “Stop it!” she yelled. “Just stop it!” She didn't react, just looked at her. “Sophia,” it came out a sob. “Please.”

“We need to get a move on, boss,” Bull said, and Amelia nodded.

“I know... I know. You're coming with me.” She grabbed Sophia's arm and dragged her from the table.

“I need to get back to work,” Sophia said, not resisting, but not quite willing either.

“You're coming with me!” Amelia yelled and tugged harder. As they made their way through the castle, Amelia wouldn't let Sophia out of her sight. They came upon a rift, and Amelia backed Sophia into a corner and protected her while she slashed the demons and tried to close the rift.

A hand curled around her bicep, the touch soft. “Ami,” it was a broken whisper, and Amelia whirled around, her wide-eyed expression mirrored on her sister's face. “Ami,” the childhood nickname tore at Amelia's heart. She looked at the fade rift, then back at her sister.

“Soph, I'll fix this, somehow, I'll fix this,” she told her quickly. She wasn't paying attention, she should have been paying attention. The demon knocked her down, and Amelia screamed as the demons sharp claws plunged into Sophia's chest. It lifted her up, shook her, and then flung her into the wall. Sophia landed in a heap, but Amelia saw her blank stare, the blood, knew she was gone.

Red was all Amelia saw as she launched herself at the demon. She tore at it, slashing, hacking. None of the finesse she normally had was present in that moment. Blackwall and Bull had to pull her off what was left of the demon. “Boss, you gotta close the rift.”

She did as he said, then crossed over to where Sophia's body lay and hit her knees. “I'm going to kill Alexius,” she ground out, fingers gentle as she closed Sophia's eyes. “With my bare-fucking-hands.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost of fixed Chapter 4 
> 
> This is what happens when you post in a hurry before going to bed. I had been writing out of order and didn't realize I had forgotten an entire part. Eep! If you're reading this, sorry!

“You're done,” Cassandra said, taking a step back.

“No!” she yelled, whirling on her. She wasn't done, not by a long shot. Amelia was rage. She could feel it, that was all she was anymore. They'd returned from Redcliffe the night before, and Amelia hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, all she could think about was Sophia. Cassandra had agreed to a little hand-to-hand sparring session, that Amelia had hoped would help her vent out some of her frustrations. But it wasn't working.

Then Cullen was in front of her. Whom she had harbored a crush on for years, and he didn't even have the decency to remember her.

“My lady,” he started, and she struck out. Blood trickled from his lip. She tried to strike again, but he blocked it. Again and again, they circled each other, him blocking each blow.

“Fight back!” she yelled at him, but he wouldn't. There was no rhythm, no grace. He could see her wearing herself out. He caught her forearm, held her tight, spun her so that her back was against his chest, and he held her arm across her chest, then in a quick movement he had a hold of the other. She struggled, threw her head back in an attempt to hit him, but he dodged the blow.

Amelia screamed, tried to kick backward, but the way he held her, she couldn't. A sob broke free, and she gave up. Her head fell forward and a moment later she felt her knees come to rest on the ground. Cullen didn't release her but shifted his hold. His arms sliding around her, hugging her tightly against his chest. Amelia curled her hands around his forearms, turned her face to press into his bicep and sobbed.

Cullen shot a look at the few people who still stood watching and they scattered. He held her trembling body against his chest, his face pressed against the back of her head, for a long time.

“If I promise not to hit anyone, will you let me go?” her voice sounded raw. Cullen was reluctant to let her go, and not out of concern that she would lash out, but because he liked the way she fit against his body. But he knew he couldn't hold her like that forever. Slowly he released her and she turned to look at him. “Oh, Maker,” she murmured, reaching up to cup his jaw. “I'm so sorry,” her voice broke and he saw tears fill her eyes once again. She grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket, wrapped it around a handful of snow, and then brought it up to press lightly against the corner of his mouth.

The sting of pain reminded Cullen that she'd landed that first blow right on target. He reached up, caught her hand with his. “It's fine,” he said.

“No, it isn't.” She shook her head. “I'm-I'm so sorry.”

“Tell me what happened,” his voice was a gentle command.

She swallowed hard. “Sophia, she was there, at Redcliffe.”

Cullen blinked. This was the first he'd heard of it, then he wondered, had she been dead? Because there was no other way Amelia would have left her behind.

“That future that Alexius sent Dorian and me to, she was there. He had her working with red lyrium, and-” her voice broke but she told him everything that had happened, that she'd left out of her official report. “When we came back, I asked him, he said he didn't know who she was, but I didn't believe him. Dorian wouldn't let me beat the truth out of him, and asked Felix, he said the same thing. Hadn't seen or heard of anyone resembling Sophia.”

“This is good news,” Cullen told her, still holding her hand. He tugged it down and held it between hers. “That means Sophia is alive.”

“But where? Does this Elder One already have her somewhere? How did she end up working with red lyrium for Alexius? I don't even know what she was doing with it. But Varric says it's dangerous.”

Cullen shook his head but squeezed her hand. “I don't know, but we'll keep looking, we won't give up hope. We'll find her, Amelia.”

“Thank you, Cullen. I-” she sighed. “I should apologize to Cassandra.”

“Next time you feel the need to hit something, come find me.”

Amelia pouted a little, tugging her hand away. “You're too good at blocking my blows.”

He caught her chin, held it gently, but firmly, forcing her to look at him. “I mean it.”

“Yes Sir,” the words slipped out before she could stop them. The authority in his tone and the serious look in his eye terrified her a little, she'd have agreed to damn near anything in that moment.

Cullen helped Amelia to her feet. “Well,” she muttered. “That is completely mortifying.” The troops and her allies had seen her meltdown. It was bad enough, she thought, that Cullen had, but these people looked to her for guidance, which still boggled her mind. She was a terrible leader.

“You're human, Herald,” Cullen told her. “I don't think the reminder hurt anyone.”

“Well, with any luck, in a few days time, once the mages have arrived, the breach will be closed and all of this will be but a distant memory.” They would track down the Elder One, stop him from assassinating Celene, Amelia would find her sister, and they would all live happily ever after. She caught the look on Cullen's face from the corner of her eye as they made their way through Haven's gates to Flissa's tavern. “Let me dream, alright?”

 

Haven sure knew how to throw a party. So, maybe she was a little bit tipsy. She was laughing and dancing around the fire with the others. Amelia had been dragged out by Sera and then had grabbed Varric, much to his dismay. The mages had come, the breach had been closed and she just wanted to have one night to relax. She knew there was so much still to do. She had to find Sophia. She had to figure out who the hell the Elder One was. But for now, she was going to celebrate.

  
Spinning in a circle she saw Cullen, standing with Cassandra, arms over his chest, watching the festivities absently. Maybe she was a bit more than tipsy, she thought and danced her way over to where they stood. “Come dance, Cullen.”

“I don't dance,” he said, holding a hand up to ward her off.

“Then how about a walk?” She gave him her most endearing smile. “Please, just five minutes.” She reached out a ruffled the fur at his collar. “Can't you lay down the mantle of Commander for five minutes?”

Cassandra let out a little snort of laughter and Amelia caught Cullen's hand. “Please,” she all but begged. Feeling the liquid courage, she wanted to talk to him, if he didn't remember her, she would remind him.

“Five minutes,” he relented and allowed her to tug him down one of the quiet paths. She turned, walking backward.

“Don't you ever relax?” she asked him.

“You know this isn't over,” he said and Amelia sighed dramatically.

“Yes, I know that, Commander. Which is why I want this one evening. To just... forget. The last months have been so hard, and we finally accomplished something, something good. I know it's far from over, I just wanted-” her heel caught and she stumbled, falling backward.

Cullen caught her immediately, and she found herself pressed up against the length of his body. “Good catch,” she said, and couldn't figure out why her voice had sounded so breathless.

“You should watch where you're going,” he told her, his hands splayed out over her back, holding her against him.

“You are absolutely right,” she murmured, letting her hands slide up his arms to rest on his biceps. The man was built. She'd known that, but seeing him without his shirt when they had sparred was one thing, feeling the strength of his arms holding her was another. “Just, five minutes Commander,” she said before pushing up on her tip-toes and pressing her lips to his. Her courage to tell him about their childhood connection had fled and shifted into something completely different. He kissed her back, but not as hard as she had kissed him. He started to draw back.

“Herald,” he said and she shook her head.

“No, no, there is no Herald tonight. Just me, just Amelia. Five minutes, Cullen, please, just give me five minutes.” Then his mouth was claiming hers and she was gasping as she felt a solid wall against her back. The kiss was deep, hard, tongues tangling, teeth gently nipping. Distantly, Amelia heard a noise. Bells? She started to pull back, turned her face, brow furrowing. “What-”

“Five minutes, Amelia,” Cullen said, claiming her mouth again and she gave in, pushing every other thought from her mind. It had been far longer than five minutes, Amelia was certain of that when the clanging of the bells finally pulled them apart. “What-” he broke off, looked at her with something close to horror, and she realized there were people yelling and screaming. They broke apart and were both running toward the gates in the next moment.

 

Amelia jerked awake, pain exploding through her body. Her head, her side, her arm. “Maker's balls,” she rasped then tried to blink her surroundings into focus. She was home. Her childhood bedroom. This is wrong, she thought. “Mom?” her voice broke as she took in the woman sitting beside her. Exactly as she remembered her. Dark blonde hair, soft brown eyes. Her face was round and she smiled sweetly.

“Oh, you're finally awake,” her mom reached out to smooth her hair back from her forehead. “We've been worried sick, you took quite the fall.”

“No,” Amelia said, trying to push up to sit. She hadn't fallen. No, wait, maybe she had? But this wasn't right. “No, this is wrong,” she said. Her mother had been dead for years.

“You must have had a bad dream,” her mom, who couldn't be her mom, said.

“No,” Amelia said again, still struggling, but every movement hurt. “You're dead, I know you're dead.” She and her father had been at her side when she passed. She remembered watching her chest slowly rising and falling, and then not.

Not-Mom laughed softly. “I'm not dead, silly, I'm right here.”

“The mark,” she looked at her hand, but it was gone. She shook her hand out as if that would make the mark reappear. “Haven. The Inquisition. The Temple of Sacred Ashes.” She tried to remember, but things were starting to blur around the edges. Look hazy. “Cullen!” she burst out.

“Oh, Cullen will return soon.” Her mother smiled again, and Amelia batted away her hand when she reached out to stroke her hair again.

“No, because you're not real. Where is Sophia?”

“In the other room.”

“No! She's a mage! She was in the circle! She's Tranquil!”

“That sounds like quite the nightmare,” Cullen stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, wearing a half smile on his face, and it took Amelia's breath away. “I'm glad to see you're awake, love.” He crossed the room, and Not-Mom slipped out.

“You're not real,” Amelia said, voice cracking. “None of this is real. What kind of demon are you?”

“You think I'm a demon? I'm your husband, love.” He leaned down, brushed his lips against hers in the softest, sweetest kiss. Amelia tried to resist, screaming in her mind that it wasn't real, but oh maker, it felt good. She felt the weight of his body settle down beside her on the bed as if he were taking care of her injuries.

“This isn't real,” she murmured again, staring up at him. “Cullen,” she breathed out, then reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair as he leaned over her, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from hers. His hair was so thick beneath her fingers. Warm and soft.

“Amelia,” his breath was warm, his lips touched hers as he spoke. Then he was kissing her, and by the Maker, she was lost. Not real, her mind screamed, but she couldn't help arching into his touch, wanting more of it. She had to stop this. His hand skimmed down her side, she felt the bed shift, and he was over her, settling between her thighs. Her breath hitched and she couldn't help but arch beneath him. “Love,” he murmured lips on her throat. Sucking, licking.

Tears welled up in her eyes because it would be so easy to just give in. The pain was fading, the thoughts of Haven, the Red Templars, Corypheus. “You're not real,” she rasped, shoving him away and clenching her eyes shut. “None of this is real. I'm the Herald of Andraste,” at least to the people she was. “I'm part of the Inquisition. Sophia isn't here. And neither are you.” She opened her eyes and she was surrounded by snow. She was half frozen and every inch of her body hurt.

Haven. She had brought the mountain down on it, on her. She could see light at the end of a tunnel and hoped it wasn't the absolute end as she made her way toward it.

  
She had been walking for days, she thought. Stumbling, struggling, sometimes crawling. She was fairly certain she had a few broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung? Her arm was broken, that was certain. She had made herself a makeshift sling from some fabric she'd torn from her armor.

Amelia thought about the demon that had wormed its way into her mind. She was terrified to sleep, had found herself dozing off at one point, not even realizing she'd sat down in the snow. Cullen had kissed her, he had made it halfway down her body when she'd jerked herself back into consciousness and shoved to her feet again. Was it really just a dream? Or was that demon still there? Because that was what it had been, wasn't it?

When she saw the campfires she began to cry. They were so close but still so far away. She'd never make it to them. Amelia could no longer feel her arm. Wondered if it had fallen off and dropped along the way. Glancing down, she saw no, it was still attached. It looked worse, the angle even more wrong than before. But not feeling it was good.

She sunk down into the snow, stared at the fires. The fires meant people had gotten out, people were safe. Voices carried on the breeze, and she smiled, leaning back against a rock. She'd just rest for a few minutes.

Loud voices, yelling, and cursing tore Amelia from her sweet dreams. She opened her eyes, saw Cullen, started to smile until she realized that she was very much awake and very much aware of the pain her body was in. “Fuck,” she rasped. She looked at the healer setting her broken arm who was wincing. Then Cullen was gone and she was surrounded by healers, poking and prodding and pouring potions down her throat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut? Smut. 
> 
> I don't know what happened, that scene did not turn out like originally planned, but I couldn't get it to cooperate the other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Cullen is very Cullen-y anymore... Apologies, I suck at canon.

“So, you're the Champion,” Amelia said, looking at Hawke. The woman stood there, red hair catching on the breeze.

“No one really uses that title much these days,” she told her with a slight smile, crossing her arms over her chest. “Varric tells me you have a title of your own, Inquisitor.”

Amelia leaned against the wall and rolled her eyes. “Inquisitor. I feel more like an impostor. I have no idea what I'm doing, and right now, I'm sidelined. They won't let me out to fight.”

“Well,” Sienna Hawke raised a brow. “I imagine with your injuries, it wouldn't make for much of one.”

Scowling, Amelia huffed. “You don't have to side with them,” she told her. Regardless of them being right. Them being, the healers, and her advisors. She'd spent days in and out of consciousness after the incident at Haven. She had indeed broken her arm and ribs. Healing magic could only do so much, especially on older wounds. So Amelia was stuck, healing the old fashioned way, and forbidden from leaving Skyhold.

Sienna laughed. “Oh, trust me, I've been in your position more times than I care to remember. The battle with the Arishok? Nearly killed me. Anders and Fenris never agreed on much, but the two banded together to keep me on bed rest for two weeks. I swear, they took turns guarding me.” The smile on her face was a fond one, and Amelia couldn't help but grin.

“Dorian has at least been sneaking me wine,” she admitted. It seemed it was the only way she could fall asleep these days. Nightmares from Haven and the strange dream she'd had, with her mother, sister, and Cullen. She wasn't even sure anymore if it had been a demon or just a dream, hovering on the edge of death.

“Good man!” They stood in silence for a time before Sienna let out a heavy breath. “Corypheus was dead. Varric and I killed him.”

“I believe you, but he's figured out some way to get around that.”

“I have a friend in the Wardens, he's in Crestwood, as soon as you're able, I think we should go speak with him. He may have more insight into what is going on.”

“It had better be soon,” Amelia said, looking down at her broken arm. “I'm going stir-crazy.”

 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the papers on his desk. It was late and he knew he should be sleeping, but his head ached, and the lyrium withdrawal had been riding him all day. He'd had the shakes earlier, had been freezing, but now he was too warm. He stripped off his armor, paced his office. He needed to sleep. He needed to work. Glancing out the open door he saw a light in the courtyard. A small lamp burning at the gazebo. Who was up at this hour?

He was surprised to find Amelia sitting with her legs tucked under her, and her head pillowed on her arm. At first, he thought she was asleep, but then he realized she was staring at the chessboard on the table in front of her. “Inquisitor,” he said and she looked up.

“Commander,” she murmured. “Shouldn't you be sleeping? It's late.”

“I could say the same about you,” he said sinking down across from her. “Do you play?”

She shook her head, then sighed. “No, but Dorian is teaching me, he said I had to do something or else I was going to drive him crazy with my pestering. He doesn't appreciate when I interrupt his reading.” Amelia had never been one for books. She preferred to do things, not read about them.

“How about a game?” Cullen shifted to the edge of his seat, hand hovering over the pieces.

“Go easy on me,” Amelia said, and mirrored his position, and for a moment she was utterly embarrassed. She hadn't expected anyone other than the guards to be up and about, so she'd come down in her pajamas and robe. But Cullen hadn't seemed to notice, which didn't make her feel any better. She thought about their kiss in Haven. How he'd held her against the wall and all but devoured her. He hadn't said anything about it in the weeks since, so it was another thing she was trying to let go of. He didn't remember her, didn't want to talk about the kiss. Maybe he'd just been caught up in the moment, the joy of, for one second, having won. Maybe he would have kissed anyone who happened to lure him away like that.

She'd lost every single game, except she had a sneaking suspicion that he was letting her win this time. She'd accidentally set herself up for defeat, had silently waited, annoyed with herself, and he didn't claim her piece. Could he have missed it? She wondered, but no, the next time, she did it intentionally, waited, watching. Again, he didn't make the move she knew he could have, should have.

“Looks like this game is yours, my lady.”

“You let me win,” Amelia said.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he stood up, glanced around. “Maker, we played all night.” He frowned at the lightening sky. “You should be resting.”

“Nice subject change,” she laughed quietly and pushed up, stretching sore muscles. “Well, since I'm not allowed to do anything until my arm is healed-”

“And your ribs,” he interjected.

She shot him a narrow-eyed look. “And my ribs,” she added, bitterly. “I think I'll just go to bed,” she tugged her robe tighter around herself.

Cullen let out a quiet snort of laughter. “Nice slippers.”

Looking down, Amelia felt her cheeks flame. “They were a gift,” she huffed, then turned, and walked away as gracefully as she could manage in her pajamas and nug slippers.

  
Once she was healed, things moved at a whirlwind pace. They went to Crestwood, and Amelia would be forever grateful to never see a walking corpse again. She knew it was too much to ask for though. They met with Hawke and Alistair and she'd been in awe. Alistair Therin. Grey Warden. He'd been with the Hero of Ferelden during the fifth blight. She had tried to get Leliana to speak of it, but she wouldn't say much.

They went on to find the Wardens in the Western Approach, using blood magic and obeying every whim of Erimond, Amelia felt completely overwhelmed. The Grey Wardens. They were supposed to be their saviors. She had always admired them, as a small child her father had told her stories about them, she'd wanted to be one.

But to see how far they had fallen, she imagined she hadn't hit the bottom yet. The mages, the Templars and now the Wardens? How much worse would it get? “Commander,” she spoke softly. She needed a distraction while they waited to hear back from Hawke. He looked up from his desk.

“Inquisitor?”

“Are you busy?” she asked him, feeling awkward for some reason. Maker, she couldn't fathom why. They had sparred several times at Haven. But not since the kiss.

“What do you need?” he asked, putting aside his papers.

“A fight,” she told him though she really was just looking to spend time with him. Yet, the weeks of inactivity due to her injuries left her feeling out of shape. He froze for a heartbeat, then nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed. “No weapons,” he said, holding his hand out. Obediently, she withdrew her daggers and handed them to Cullen.

“There is a space,” she offered. “Below Skyhold, near the kitchen.” It was big and open and they wouldn't be bothered. If she broke again, there would be no witnesses.

Cullen nodded. “Good idea,” he agreed, and after tucking her daggers into his desk, they walked out onto the battlements, and down the stairs. A few shot them covert glances, there were a handful of hush whispers. Cullen tugged off his cloak, and his armor, while Amelia watched, then he turned to her. “Ready?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. They moved to the center of the room, and Cullen made the first move. “Ow,” she complained, shaking out the hand that he'd tapped. “No need to be so rough,” she pouted, tried to spin around him, but he was too quick, followed her every move.

“Tell me what's wrong,” he said, blocking her attempted jab to his ribs.

Amelia let out a quiet grunt of annoyance, punched his palm. He closed his hand around her fist, wouldn't let go. “The Wardens,” she finally said. Feinted a kick, he blocked, and she ducked behind him and slapped her hand on his ass. “Too slow, Commander.” Amelia laughed softly danced back several steps and out of his reach.

“When I was a kid, my dad told me stories about them,” she continued, landing blows against his palms. “I wanted to be one. They were so heroic and brave and- now they're doing blood magic and helping demons.” Her thoughts had echoed Hawke's words at the ritual tower. “What if I can't save them?” She dropped her arms to her sides, chest heaving she stared up at Cullen. “What do we do if there are no more Wardens?”

Cullen dropped his arms to his own sides, his breathing not nearly as heavy as hers. Damn him, she thought. But then again, he'd simply been blocking her again, letting her wear herself out. “The Inquisition will do everything in its power to stop Erimond and the Wardens. He doesn't have them all. Thedas won't be bereft of Wardens.”

Amelia stared at Cullen for several moments, trying to work up the nerve. Maker, but she wanted him to remember her, she had thought she was okay with him not remembering. It was silly, it had been nearly seventeen years, and it had been one summer. “Thank you, Cullen,” she said, signifying the end of their little sparring session.

“Are you finished?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“Yeah,” she said with a slight nod. “I guess I really just needed to talk more than anything.”

With those words, his guard was down. “Amelia, I am always here to listen-” She felt gleeful pride as she spun around him, knocked his legs out from under him and he landed with a grunt on his back, with her over him. “You fight dirty,” he said, blinking up at her.

She smiled, waited. But there was no recognition, still. “Apologies, Commander.” Defeated, Amelia shifted her weight to get off him, her cheeks suddenly flaming from embarrassment. She didn't make it. Before she knew it, her hands were pinned above her head, and Cullen was over her. She let out a soft cry of surprise, stared up at him with her mouth open.

“Never apologize for fighting dirty, Amelia.”

_He shouldn't have said that_ , she thought. He really shouldn't have said that. It was all the encouragement she needed. He'd kept most of his weight off her. One hand holding both of hers, while the other supported his weight. She had her feet planted on the floor and his hips were nestled between her thighs, but not touching. Amelia licked her lips, saw Cullen's gaze dart down to her mouth. He may not remember her, she thought, but that didn't mean he wasn't attracted to her now. Or maybe he was as desperate as she felt right then.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled his body down onto hers. In an effort to catch himself, he released her wrists and she tangled her hands in his hair, tugging his face down so she could claim his mouth with her own. Cullen let out a groan and she expected him to resist, to pull away, he didn't. One hand tangled in her hair, the other slid down and gripped her thigh.

For a fleeting moment, her mind went back to the dream, the weight of his body was so much more real. The feel of his hand as it slid up her thigh, dipped under her shirt to touch bare skin. It felt like fire. She arched, gasped, and dug her nails into his shoulders when he leaned in to lick her throat. “Maker,” she jerked, and laughed, tugging him away from that spot.

“Are you ticklish?” he murmured, his head tilting to nuzzle the other side of her throat.

“No,” she said quickly, then shrieked when his mouth descended on the same spot again. But then his hand slid higher, fingertips brushed the underside of her breast and she swore her body went two different directions, pleasure-filled torment. Amelia cried out, her legs tightening around Cullen's waist and she clung to him.

She heard him groan, felt his hips rock forward and she could feel the length of him pressing against her core.

  
_This is wrong. This is completely wrong_. Cullen kept telling himself that as he cupped Amelia's breast and licked over her collarbone. He would never tire of watching the way she moved when they sparred. Or simply when she stood looking at the map in the war room. Maker, but he was infatuated with her. Just as he had been all those years ago. “This is wrong,” he finally got the words for form on his lips. “We shouldn't be doing this.”

She was pulled at his tunic and he drew back enough to help her tug it over his head, before he pushed hers up, yanked down the breast band and wrapped his lips around one hardened nipple. _Too fast_ , he thought. _Wrong_ , he tried to remind himself. _This is wrong_. But her breathy moan pushed the words from his mind.

“Why not?” she managed out. He switched to the other breast, his hand coming back up to cover the one he'd abandoned. Her thighs tightened around him, hips rocking, rubbing.

“You are the Inquisitor,” as if that should be reason enough. Her hands felt as if they were everywhere. In his hair, on his back, slipping down between them to cup him through his pants. It had been a long time, he thought, since he'd been with a woman. Kirkwall, he mentally shook the bitter memory from his head.

“And the Inquisitor doesn't get to have sex? Who made up that rule? They're stupid!” Her voice was ragged and he began to leave a trail of kisses down her stomach, glanced up at her as he reached the waistband of her leggings.

Her wet lips were parted, eyes wide, then her hands were on his, for a second he thought she'd put a stop to their foolishness. But instead, she hooked her thumbs in the band and shoved down. Cullen took over, dragging them down her legs. They caught on her boots and he quickly untied one, tossed it over his shoulder and went to undo the other. But then Amelia was on him.

Pushing him onto his back she straddled his waist and deftly rid herself of her top and the breast band. Cullen stared up at her, awestruck. Her dark hair was a tangled mess of curls, making her look more like a wild thing than the noblewoman he knew she was. A hiss of air escaped him when she dipped her hand inside the front of his pants and curled a hot fist around his aching cock.

He looked up and met her gaze and saw the corner of her mouth twist into a half smirk. Then he was lost to sensation. Amelia rocked her hips, rubbing the head of his cock over her slick heat. Too long, it had been too long since he'd felt that kind of wet heat. If she did that again, he'd come. He needed some semblance of control. She shifted her weight, to repeat the teasing gesture, but Cullen reached down and caught her hands with his. He tugged until she was stretched out over him.

Long moments passed, staring into each other's eyes, noses just barely touching. Lifting his hips, Amelia shifted her own back, felt the head of his cock against her and she wanted so badly to go faster, to push back and feel him thrust hard into her, fast. But she couldn't. She was captivated. It was almost painfully slow, the feel of him sliding inside of her. The thick length of him stretched and her breath left her once he was fully seated within her.

“Amelia,” Cullen breathed out her name.

“I swear, if you tell me this is wrong again I will never forgive you.” Her eyes were damp as she looked at him, and Cullen reached up, cupping her cheek. He let his eyes dance over her face, memorizing it. Each freckle and mole. The faint scar on her forehead, the deep blue of her eyes.

Cullen rolled her onto her back, tucking her beneath him, he shifted his hips, felt her clench around him and couldn't help the groan that escaped. Maker help him, he was lost to her. He withdrew from her almost all the way and then pushed back in, just as slowly. Watched in pleasured agony the way she arched back, parted her lips. He needed to see her come, to feel it, he wasn't going to last long.

Resting his weight on his forearm beside her head, he slipped his other hand down to tug her leg up higher around his waist, changing the angle as he moved in steady driving thrusts.

“Cull-” Amelia's voice cracked, her nails dug into his shoulders and she looked up at him. “Cullen,” she breathed, then moaned again when he picked up the pace. “Yes! There! Right-”

Cullen drove deeper, faster, the feel of her going hotter and wetter around him as she came. With a groan he pulled out of her, his own hand going to finish the job, but she beat him to it. One hand curled around his shaft, while the other teased the head. He let out a low, quiet curse as he came, spurts of his seed spilling over her belly and fingers. She kept stroking, slow and tight. He jerked, cursed again, and then groaned as she shifted her hand, pressed his still half-hard and aching cock against the warm, wet skin of her belly.

He wasn't sure how long they laid like that, Amelia beneath him, her hand holding his cock against her stomach, in the sticky wet pool of his own come. Finally, he opened his eyes, met her gaze. She looked sleepy and sated. At least, he hoped so. “Did you-was I-” he tripped over his words, and then they were stolen completely when she lifted her hand from his cock and brought her wet fingers to her lips. She licked one digit, then sucked it into her mouth. “By the Maker,” he rasped out, feeling his cock pulse.

Amelia's eyes slid shut, and she let out a quiet moan around her finger, before releasing it with a soft pop. She opened her eyes to see Cullen's dark with renewed want staring down at her. “Now, Commander, care to tell me how this is wrong?”

“Who said anything about this being wrong?” he asked, eyes intent on her fingers as she took her time licking them clean.

“I distinctly remember you-” her words clogged in her throat when she felt his fingers slip between her thighs. He dipped one finger inside her, she clenched around him, but he withdrew it, brought it up to his own mouth and she stared, breathless as he sucked the finger into his mouth. “You're right,” she whispered. “No one said anything about this being wrong.” Amelia tugged his mouth down to hers and thrust her tongue into his mouth, the taste of him still on her tongue, she could taste herself on his.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cluster-fuck of words and ideas.

Cullen still wore his trousers, though they were shoved down around his thighs, and Amelia still had one leg trapped in her leggings and boot. The floor was cold and hard against her back and Amelia couldn't care less. Cullen's body was a welcome weight over her, as he lay with his forehead against her shoulder.

“Five more minutes, Commander,” she whispered drowsily when he began to shift away from her. She slid one hand up his back to cup the back of his head. Cullen lifted his head, avoiding her gaze and Amelia's heart skipped a beat. “Cullen,” she started, reaching for him, but he had already gotten to his feet, and began yanking at his trousers as he crossed to their forgotten pile of clothes.

This isn't real, she thought. It was demon or dream. There was no way the indomitable Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford would have fucked her on the floor, in the middle of the day, for no reason other than her kissing him. Pain lanced her chest. It had been real, it had happened, and Cullen didn't look pleased. She watched him dress before she followed suit, dragging her leggings back up, and then she yanked on her breast band and shirt. Her boot was a few feet away, so she had to get up to grab it.

“Inquisitor-”

Amelia bent down to grab her boot, stood up and Cullen looked away. “I should go speak with Leliana and see if we have heard anything from Hawke.” She shoved her foot into her boot and headed down one of the long hallways.

  
Cullen ran his hand over his face as he listened to the man recount what had happened. He had only just arrived at Skyhold, and he was battered and bruised, and Cullen was sure there were more that weren't visible. “I tried to follow, but there were so many of them.” The Red Templars. “I don't know where they took her, or why,” he shook his head.

“Why didn't you stop them?” The sharp question came from the doorway, Cullen looked up to see Amelia standing there with fire in her eyes.

Nikolaas looked up at her, eyes wide, then quickly looked back down. “My lady,” his voice was rough. “I'm sorry, I promised you that your sister was safe-”

“No,” she said softly. “Maker, I'm sorry.” She hurried to his side and touched his shoulder. “Nikolaas, I know you did all you could,” she shot Cullen a look. “Why isn't there a healer up here? Why is he up here and not with a healer?” The Templar was injured, badly, it was obvious, and Cullen had tried to convince him to allow someone to see to him, but he'd refused.

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Amelia, the woman's temper was so quick to rise, but just as quickly diffused, or switched. Her anger at Nikolaas now falling on his shoulders, and he couldn't blame her. He was angry with himself as well. He should never have allowed their sparring to escalate. It was all he could think about, how she had felt against him, over him, under him. The way her body had bowed- “He wouldn't hear of it, He wanted to report what had happened first.”

Huffing and rolling her eyes, Amelia walked to the door, barked an order at the scouts nearby before she went back to Nikolaas' side. “How long ago?”

“Three days,” he told her. “The Commander had gotten word to me that you were here, and looking for Sophia, I was bringing her here. We were ambushed in the area that used to be Lothering.”

Cullen turned to look out his small window. It was his fault they'd been ambushed, wasn't it? Had he left it alone, not interfered, would Sophia have been safe from the Templars? From Corypheus? They'd never know.

  
Amelia's heart clenched. She hadn't thought to track down Nikolaas, but obviously, Cullen had. She glanced at him, saw him resting his arm against the wall as he stared out the window. Looking back at Nikolaas she reached out and took his hand, then froze. She could see blood through the damage and gashes in his gauntlet, and red lyrium.

“I tried to stop them,” he said quietly.

Amelia reached up and touched the man's cheek. He was a few years younger than her, but in that moment, he looked decades younger. “And I can't thank you enough for that, but you're no good to Sophia if you're dead.” She looked over as one of the healers appeared in the doorway. “See to him, be sure to be careful with his arm.” The healer nodded and helped Nikolaas out of the room.

Then the room was silent. Cullen still had his back to her, and Amelia glanced around, feeling suddenly, painfully awkward.

“Has Leliana heard from Hawke?”

Amelia opened her mouth, then snapped it shut with resignation. “Not yet.” Straightening her spine she stared at his back, silently willing him to turn around, to just look at her. “You were right earlier,” she said, and still nothing. “I would like to apologize. It was a mistake. I regret that I-” The words cut like razors on her throat. She didn't mean them, wanted to take them back. But it was obvious that Cullen truly did regret it. “You are the Commander of the Inquisition's army, I need you,” she closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “I need to just forget about what happened. I appreciate that you were willing to... spar with me. It won't happen again, Commander.”

He glanced over his shoulder, but still didn't turn to face her. “I agree, Inquisitor. It is best to forget the entire incident.”

“Done,” Amelia said before turning and walking away. She headed across the battlements to the pub, and when she saw Cole, she almost asked him to make her truly forget. To banish the memory from her mind. She felt so foolish. Instead, she continued past him, and out the bar, to find Josephine. “Where do I need to be?” she asked.

“What do you mean, Inquisitor?”

“While we're waiting to hear back from Hawke, what can I do?”

“There is the matter at Caer Oswin that Cassandra would like you to look into,” Josephine frowned. “Inquisitor, are you feeling alright?”

“I'm fine, Josie, thank you. I am just anxious. I'm going to go look in on Nikolaas, but first thing tomorrow, Cassandra, Dorian, Varric and I will leave for Caer Oswin.” Then she left Josephine's office and headed for the room Nikolaas had been taken to. He was sleeping, and the healer offered Amelia the chair he'd been sitting in. “How is he?” she asked, taking in Nikolaas' battered appearance.

“We couldn't save the arm, the lyrium,” the healer shook his head. “Maker's breath, I've never seen anything like it. His leg wasn't as bad, did what we could, but there is a chance of infection. Might have to take the whole thing.” He listed the injuries, including the red lyrium scars that littered his face and would never heal. Amelia sunk down in the chair beside the bed and took the man's remaining hand.

All to save her sister. Her chest ached and she longed to make everything right for him and for Sophia. “I'll stay with him,” Amelia told the healer. “If there is any change, I'll send for you. Get some sleep.”

“My lady, shouldn't you be resting?” he asked and she shook her head.

“I'm fine,” Amelia said with a wave of her hand. “Go.” The healer seemed to think it over, before finally nodding his head.

“If he wakes up in pain, you can give him this.”

“Thank you,” she said and watched the older man slip out the door.

 

Caer Oswin was not what Amelia had anticipated. They'd found the Seekers and the Promisers, and Lord Seeker Lucius. After returning to Skyhold, Amelia found Cassandra with the massive book that supposedly held all the secrets of the Seekers. “Your sister is Tranquil, yes?” Cassandra asked and Amelia frowned.

“Yes,” she told her, leaning against the banister, arms over her chest. Cassandra was staring down at the book. “What is this about?”

“I told you, when I became a seeker, I spent months emptying myself of all emotion. I was made Tranquil and a spirit of faith was summoned to touch my mind. It seems the Seekers have always known how to reverse Tranquility.”

Amelia couldn't breathe. “There's-there is a way to reverse it?” She thought of Sophia, of all the others she'd met along the way.

“It appears so. I will look into it further, there is no telling how someone who has been Tranquil for years would react to the transitioning back. Or if it would be safe, Tranquility was supposed to be only used for those who posed a threat to themselves, or others via their connection to the Fade.”

Clenching her jaw, Amelia shook her head. “Yes, but you and I both know that isn't always the case.”

“True,” Cassandra sighed.

 

Amelia stood staring down at the map, biting her thumbnail as she silently waged an internal war with herself. She should go check on Nikolaas, though she'd heard he was recovering well, despite the loss of his right arm, and subsequently his right leg just below the knee. He'd been asking how long until he could go out and fight again, he wanted to help, and to be in top shape when they launched the mission to save Sophia, once they finally found her.

She also knew she needed to sleep. They were leaving for Adamant soon. But what she really wanted to do, was cross the battlements to Cullen's office and kiss him. Maker knew that would be a mistake. She heard the door open, a soft creak of wood. “Josie, do you have-” she turned and her words caught in her throat. Cullen stood there, not Josephine. “Commander,” she managed out and watched cautiously as he closed the door and slowly crossed the room to her. “Is there something you needed?” she asked, and then words fled her as he closed the final few feet between them, cupped her face in his leather gloved hands and kissed her.

She gasped into his mouth, moaned, and melted into the kiss. Wrong, she thought. You know this isn't- Andraste's knickers, shut up! Amelia gripped his sides and made a quiet sound as he lifted her onto the edge of the war table. He leaned behind her, hand shoving pins and markers out of the way before he nudged her back on the table. She felt his hands on the waistband of her pants, untying the laces, then he rid her of her boots, smalls, and pants in one swift tug.

In the next moment, his mouth was at her core, licking and sucking, and Amelia clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the cry. Then he pushed a finger into her, and another, trusting quickly, roughly as his mouth suckled her clit. “Almost,” she breathed. “So close,” she reached down to tangle her fingers in his hair, then sat up with a gasp.

“Andraste's fucking tits,” she sobbed out. Pleasure denied. She blinked rapidly, took in her surroundings. She was in her quarters, very much alone. She knew Cullen wasn't even in Skyhold, already on his way with the bulk of their forces to Adamant. Throwing back the covers she shoved out of bed and paced her room. Knowing sleep wasn't going to come easy now, she did the one thing she could think to, tugged a blanket around her shoulders and silently slipped through the halls. She reached the door, tapped lightly before slowly pushing it open. “Dorian?” she said quietly, knowing he was probably asleep, and she could only hope he was alone.

“Hm?” came the drowsy reply. “Amelia? What is it?” His voice growing steadily more alert with each word. She peered in and saw that he'd fallen asleep reading, the candle by his bed almost completely burned out.

“I had a nightmare,” she murmured. “Can I-”

Dorian opened his arms and she practically flew across the room and climbed onto the bed. “You know I wouldn't let just anyone see me like this,” he commented, his voice taking on that drowsy quality again. Amelia chuckled, burrowing into his side. His hair had been a mess, and his mustache lacked its usual curl. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, one hand smoothing the back of her head, the other resting over hers where it lay on his chest.

“No,” she whispered, clenched her eyes shut. “Cullen,” she finally said.

“Did something happen to our revered Commander?”

“No, I-” She blushed furiously. “I just wish he wanted me like I want him.”

“Ah,” Dorian murmured, squeezing her hand. “And you don't think the Commander feels the same way?”

“I know he doesn't.” Dorian made a quiet sound and Amelia shook her head against his shoulder. “He doesn't, Dorian. It's fine. I just keep having these dreams,” she trailed off. “It is so silly, it's been seventeen years, I should have been over this ridiculous crush a long time ago.” The one just after Haven was reoccurring, and had gone much farther than it had the first time. “Go to sleep, Dorian. We have to get up early to leave for Adamant.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was almost time, Amelia stared up at Adamant fortress, heart pounding with sheer terror. The next few hours would change everything, one way or another. “Have you spoken with our dear Commander?” Dorian asked, voice low as he moved up to stand beside her, she didn't reply. They had barely looked at each other when she'd arrived. “Poppet,” his voice was low.

“And say what?” she hissed at him. “That I am in love with him and want to have his babies?”

Dorian snorted quietly. “Well, I wouldn't go that far so quickly, but at least talk to the man.” Jabbing her friend in the ribs with her elbow she walked away. She had no idea what to say to Cullen. It was best to pretend nothing had happened like she'd said before. He stood staring at walls of Adamant, brows furrowed.

“Commander? Are you alright?”

He shot her a look, straightened and the expression was gone. “Everything is nearly in place, are you ready?”

“Yes, but you didn't answer my question,” she reached out to him, and he shifted away from her touch.

“Inquisitor, I'm-just a headache is all. You need to focus on the mission.”

“Cullen,” her voice was quiet and he glanced at her before quickly looking away. “Can't we at least be friends?”

Several heartbeats passed before he responded. “No,” he said finally. “I don't think that is a good idea. You need to focus on saving the world, and I need to make sure your troops are ready to go whenever you need them.”

Well, she thought. That was that. She walked away without a word, joined with her companions and waited. The massive gate was knocked down, they went in fighting. The area was cleared, Cullen moved up beside her. “Our men can't get a foothold,” he said, gesturing to the battlements.

“I've got it,” she said, took a step and felt his hand curl around her arm.

“Amelia-”

“Commander,” she said stiffly, “Focus on the troops. Pull them out if you have to.” She tugged her arm free and ran to catch up with her companions.

Cullen ran his hand over his mouth as he stared after her. He had made a mess of everything. The lyrium withdrawal and its side effects had been steadily getting worse, and Amelia had no idea he'd stopped taking it. He'd fought with Cassandra recently, insisting that she find a replacement for him, but she refused. Captain Rylen, he thought could potentially take the job. There were others he'd been considering. After Adamant, he'd insist Cassandra make the decision. He wasn't fit for duty, or for Amelia.

 

 

“I will not be responsible for either of your deaths!” Amelia yelled, staring up at the giant demon, monster spider. “Both of you, through the rift now!”

“If we leave you here, you'll die,” Hawke said, shooting Alistair a look. “I'll stay,” she said, and Amelia heard her.

“No, you won't! I can open a new rift! Get out! I'll distract this thing, and will come back through when it is safe. You're both injured, neither one of you stand a chance against this thing right now. GO!” Without waiting for a reply from either of them, she ran at the demon.

 

Cullen was pacing in front of the rift, soldiers stood at the ready, in case any new demons came through. But neither person nor demon had since Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian. “They were right behind us,” Cassandra said, the anxiety evident in her voice. “What could have stopped them?”

The rift began to shift, flicker. Two more bodies tumbled through. Alistair and Hawke. Cullen waited. Stared at the rift. “Where is-” he didn't get the chance to finish the question. The rift closed. He whirled around. “Where is Am-the Inquisitor!”

“She wouldn't come through,” Sienna said, her hand going to her side, trying to staunch the bleeding. “There was a massive demon, someone was going to have to stay behind. I tried-” Hawke broke off, looked at Alistair, who was looking just about as horrible as she felt. “She said she'd distract the demon, close the rift and then open a new one when the coast was clear.”

“And you just let her?” Cassandra demanded.

“Seeker,” Varric said as he went to Hawke's side to take a look at her wound. “No one lets the Inquisitor do anything. She is a force of nature all on her own, and you know that as well as I do.”

Cullen just kept staring at the place where the rift had been. It was impossible. She wouldn't have. Why would she have stayed behind? Did she truly believe that she could defeat some demon and open a new rift to get back?

 

Cullen stared at the horizon as the sun sunk below it once more. He didn't want to give up hope, just the idea of it tore him apart. But it had been just over three weeks. He closed his eyes. Twenty four days. The report that Alistair and Hawke had given him, he knew the likelihood that Amelia had survived was nil. She had closed the rift from the inside and faced down a massive demon, alone. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “We'll return to Skyhold tomorrow,” he said, and even he heard the exhaustion in his voice.

“Commander?” Rylen asked and Cullen just looked at him. “Yes, sir,” he gave a quick salute and walked away.

What would the Inquisition do now, without its Inquisitor? Walking to his tent, he stepped through the flap. It wasn't lit from the inside, the only light was that seeping through the thick canvas. But he could see well enough. He began to strip off his armor and then heaved a sigh and sat down hard on the edge of his cot. His chest hurt. A throbbing pain of regret.

Cullen wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, head in his hands when he heard an anxious voice from outside his tent. “Commander? Commander, come and look at this.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed up and threw open the tent flap. He didn't even require the scout to point it out. The flash of green light in the sky off in the distance had his undivided attention in a heartbeat. A rift. One that had not been there before. “Maker's breath,” he whispered, hoping against hope. They had to get there, now.

The rift was there, for several minutes, Cullen imagined they had crossed half the distance when suddenly it was gone. Only one person could close a rift, so far as he knew. He leaned forward on his horse, pushed him to go faster.

There were corpses of demons scattered everywhere. “Amelia!?” Her name tore from his lips as he leaped from his horse. The others called out to her. “Inquisitor,” they echoed. “My lady.”

They scoured the area and found no sign of her. But the rift. “Head back to camp,” he said, and then stood there, listening. “Amelia,” he said, voice softer. She wouldn't have been able to reply if she were unconscious. Or dead, a bitter voice whispered in the back of his mind.

There was a quiet sound, an oh-so-soft shush of movement. “Amelia,” he said again. The few who had not yet headed back to camp froze, including Captain Rylen.

“Commander?”

Cullen held up a hand, waited, and the sound came again. He ran for the small copse of trees and bushes. A body lay there, trembling. “Amelia,” he said again, horror and relief warring with each other. The moon was bright enough that he could see she was covered in blood and who knew what else. He went down onto his knees beside her, and let his hands hover for a moment before he touched her cheek. “Amelia, can you hear me?”

Her eyes cracked open, then her lips parted and her breath was a rasp. “Cul-”

“Thank the Maker,” he rasped out. They had to get her back to camp. “You're safe,” he told her. “I've got you.” He gathered her into his arms, doing his best to avoid the most obvious injuries. She did little more than whimper at the movement.

“Not real,” she murmured quietly, her head lolling on his shoulder.

“What isn't real?” Cullen asked, clutching her to him as he crossed to his horse.

“You.” she tipped her face up to look at him. “S'okay. I know. None of this is real. Points for changing your approach.”

“You're exhausted,” he said and wondered if she'd taken a blow to the head. From the blood, he figured it was likely.

She smiled at him, tired and weak. “You win,” Amelia said with a sigh. “You're right, I'm so tired.” The sound that escaped her was half-sob half-laugh. “This isn't so bad of a way to go.” It was only then that he realized she had one of her daggers in her hand, and he watched in horror as she lifted it to her throat.

Cullen lurched, grabbed her hand and threw the dagger aside, then quickly rid her of the other one. She was crying then, big, fat tears leaving streaks down her dirty cheeks. “You are not in the Fade any longer, Inquisitor.”

She made a face at him. “I liked it better when you called me 'love' or 'darling,” her mouth twisted. “Darling was a good one.”

“This isn't the Fade,” he repeated, but she wasn't listening. Back at the camp, he took her to his tent, without a second thought, or compunction. He barked orders for hot water and the first-aid supplies. Someone lit a lamp for him, and he knelt beside the cot. “I need to take a look at how badly you're injured,” he told her, his hands ever so gentle as he tried to assess the best way to get her out of her clothes. They were torn, and ragged. He was afraid of hurting her more if he tried to get her to strip, so he pulled out his own dagger and carefully sliced up the front of her shirt. “By the Maker, Amelia,” it came out a rasp. Over three weeks, up against Maker knew what in the Fade. Somehow, she'd survived.

She scowled. “If you won't let me kill myself, the least you can do is call me 'love.'”

Cullen looked at her and relented, and truly, it wasn't much of a hardship. “Amelia,” he rose up, held his face over hers, met her eyes. “My love.” He liked the way she smiled at him when he said it, it made him want to call her that again and again, but not when she was delirious with pain. “Be quiet and let me look at you.”

Her brow furrowed and she let out a huff. “So rude, my husband.”

He froze. “Husband?” What had she happened in the Fade?

“I know you only agreed because you were afraid of me,” she said, her head lolling to the side as she watched him.

“I have never been afraid of you,” he told her, dipping one of the rags in the hot water before bringing it up to wipe away the filth from her upper body, so he could see what was dirt and what was bruise. “Well, maybe a little, the day you made my knuckles bleed because I was going easy on you when you had offered to spar with me.”

A gasp escaped her. “Maker's balls,” she hissed, eyes clenched shut. “See,” she said, cracking her eyes open to look at him. “Now I know we're in the Fade, the real Cullen doesn't remember me.” Amelia clumsily reached up and patted his arm. “Good try though, it's okay. Really, I'm too tired to fight anymore.”

Cullen lifted his head to look at her, then filed the comment away to deal with later. She was bruised and battered. Littered with cuts in various stages of healing, along with a particularly nasty looking bite mark on her leg that was infected. He had stripped her down to her smalls, banished anyone from entering, and cleaned her up as best he could with her and out of consciousness. He bandaged her wounds and then dressed her in one of his own large tunics. “Love,” he murmured, slipping his hand to cup the back of her head. “Sit up for a moment love, and drink this.”

Eyes fluttered, she smiled. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

“Drink this first,” he insisted, pressing the vile to her lips. Her brow furrowed, but she obeyed, her face scrunching up in distaste.

“Where is my kiss?” Amelia complained as he laid her back on the cot. Maker knew he shouldn't encourage her. She wasn't in her right mind. But Cullen couldn't resist. He ducked his face down, brushed his lips over hers in a barely there kiss, felt her smile. She hummed quietly and then relaxed and let out a quiet snore.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thoughts of suicide - Dubious-consent - emotional manipulation - smut? 
> 
> This chapter is chock full!

Amelia looked at Cullen, the Cullen that couldn't be Cullen. He was so attentive. Maker's breath, she thought and wondered if she was actually dead yet. But no, she still hurt, her body ached painfully. “Here,” he said pressing a mug into her hand, it was full of the broth that he'd been forcing her to drink since before she'd fully regained consciousness.

They were heading back to Skyhold, Cullen had told her, but would take it slow on account of her injuries. A few days had passed in the dream, and each night Cullen helped her into one of his tunics, made her drink a potion, and she'd make him kiss her. Then, when the nightmares inevitably came in the middle of the night, Cullen would hold her, stroke her hair and murmur quiet words to her.

She wanted to die. She knew that it wasn't real, but had given up any hope of breaking free. She could at least save her own soul, she thought, if she could just end her life. It might be trapped forever, like Justinia's, but Amelia could accept that, do good where she could. Maybe she'd still have the mark, and could still close the rifts from the inside?

But the Cullen-Not-Cullen wouldn't let her have her daggers back, no matter how much she'd asked, begged, demanded. He shot her a look from where he stood, speaking with the few of the troops that had stayed with them. She stuck her tongue out at him, childish, she knew but didn't care, but finally, Amelia rolled her eyes and began sipping the broth.

“You finished?” Cullen asked a little while later when he came back over to sit beside her.

She mock saluted him. “Sir, yes sir.” Then thrust the empty mug into his hand.

“Andraste preserve me, Amelia,” he took the mug and she scowled at him, waited. “Darling,” he added with a sigh. “It is late.”

By late, she thought, he meant the sun was down and that meant it was time for Amelia to sleep. “Stop fussing,” she told him, even though she liked it, a lot.

“You're injured,” he said, getting to his feet. “You need to rest.” He held a hand out to her and she looked at it. His hands were big and calloused. She thought about how they had felt on her skin, touching her thighs, her breasts. Not once had this Cullen-Not-Cullen touched her like that. Definitely a new approach.

Reaching out to take his hand she let him pull her to her feet. “Yes, Commander, of course, you're right.” He shot her a look and she smiled sweetly. “Husband,” she tacked on because this Cullen denied their relationship.

He muttered something about preservation again as they walked hand in hand to his tent. Without a word, Amelia pushed down her leggings and sat on the edge of the cot, where Cullen knelt in front of her and untied her boots. He checked the wound on her leg, applied more salve and changed the bandage before he helped her change into his tunic. All without truly looking at her.

“Cullen,” she murmured, reaching out to touch his jaw. If she was going to die, she wanted at least a few nice memories to take with her, no matter how fake they might be. He froze and she slipped her hand into his hair and leaned in to brush her mouth against his. “Make love to me,” she whispered against his mouth, before biting lightly on his lower lip.

Cullen groaned, and he was kissing her back and Maker, the man could kiss. Then he pulled back, hands on her hips. “No, absolutely not.” His breathing was uneven and Amelia smirked.

“Pretty please,” she asked, using her fingernails to scratch lightly at the back of his head. His eyes slid shut and he practically purred. Then she felt his hand against her side, pressing, not hard, but enough to remind her of her bruised ribs.

“You're hurt,” he said, voice a little ragged.

“Ow!” she yelped, though it hadn't really hurt. Amelia slapped his hand away and scowled. “That's just mean,” she told him and watched him fetch the potion that he claimed was helping her heal and lifted it to her mouth. She pursed her lips together and they say like that for long minutes, neither moving or blinking.

Then his hand was sliding up the inside of her thigh. Rough fingers scraping deliciously against tender flesh. She gasped, lips parting, eyes going heavy-lidded. Then he poured the potion into her mouth and stood up. “You-you cheat!” She coughed, eyes watering from the having to suddenly swallow the bitter potion, and the teasing pleasure he'd just dealt her.

Cullen glanced over his shoulder as he put away the empty vile. “Go to sleep, love.”

“That isn't fair!” she all but wailed at him. “You can't just-” She huffed. “I want my kiss.” Amelia crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. He didn't react, just kept doing whatever it was he was doing. He wasn't going to do it, she thought bewildered. But he was supposed to. They were in the fade, and this demon wasn't playing by the rules. They were in the fade, weren't they?

Amelia's hands fell into her lap and she looked down at them. Because the real Cullen wouldn't have ever done all the things she'd gotten him to do over the last few days. He knelt in front of her again, his hand dwarfing both of hers, and the other hand cupped the back of her head. He kissed her. Pressed his mouth to hers and her lips parted on instinct. He dipped his tongue in, stroked against hers and she took her breath.

He drew back slowly, laying soft kisses along her jaw till he reached her ear. “Please, love, you need to rest.”

She obeyed this time, let him help her back onto the cot, he fluffed her pillow and pulled the blankets up around her. Just like the other nights he laid down on the floor, on his makeshift bed and doused the light. Amelia lay there for a long time, wide awake and staring at the dark canvas of the tent, listening to Cullen's even breathing. Maybe, she thought. Nothing was what it seemed.

Amelia made a sound, as quiet as she could manage, and waited. His reaction was instant. “Amelia,” he whispered. “Love.” Cullen was there, slipping onto the too-small cot beside her, arms going around her. She clung to him, face buried in his throat. “You're safe,” he told her. “I've got you.”

 

  
Cullen woke with a start to find Amelia, not beside him. He threw back the covers and shoved his feet into his boots before tearing open the flap of his tent. There she was, standing with her back to him. His heart skipped several beats and he did his best to calm his breathing as he closed the distance. “What are you doing, my love?” The endearments came so naturally now. Maker, when they were back at Skyhold, and Amelia was in her right mind again, he was going to have a hard time quelling the urge to call her _love_ and _darling_. He slipped his arms around her waist as he moved up behind her and she immediately relaxed into his hold.

Her hands slid along his arms and she sighed. “Just looking,” she told him. The breach was massive and vibrant. “I couldn't sleep.” Cullen pressed his face into her hair and let out a quiet breath.

“I was worried when you weren't in bed,” he told her. Terrified was more accurate. She hadn't tried to kill herself since those first few days. But he didn't trust that she wouldn't do it again. He'd taken what precautions he could, but there was always a chance she might hurt herself.

“Hmm,” she murmured, turning in his embrace. “I'm sorry to have worried you, dear-heart.” She pressed her hand to his chest, laid it over his heart. “Cullen,” Amelia murmured. “Make love to me, please.”

“Amelia,” he groaned quietly. Every night for the last four nights she had asked and saying no was getting harder and harder. Cullen wanted her, desperately. But were he to make love to her now, it was more wrong than before when they had sparred.

“If you jab me in the ribs again, I swear my blade will find its way between yours,” she told him. “The third and the fourth I do believe,” she ran her hand up his ribs, pausing before curling it into a fist in the front of his shirt. “Please, love.” Amelia leaned in, ran her tongue along his collarbone.

A groan escaped him, he couldn't help it. One hand came up to cup the back of her head, before he brought the other up to grip her chin, to force her to meet his gaze. They stared at each other for several long moments, and then finally, Cullen gave in. He leaned down, claimed her mouth with his, and dropped his hands down to her hips. He lifted and she immediately curled her legs around his waist, her arms going around his shoulders.

Carrying her back to his tent, he laid her out on his makeshift bed on the ground. Her fingers were in his hair, scratching his scalp and Cullen groaned against her mouth. He'd never realized how much he enjoyed the sensation of fingernails on his scalp, but maybe it was just because it was Amelia. She tugged at his shirt, and Cullen rose up, tore it over his head and tossed it aside before he made his way down her body.

It was wrong, he told himself, to do this. Amelia still thought she was in the fade. But in whatever Fade fantasy she thought she was in, she wanted him, and by the Maker, he wanted her. He pressed his lips to the soft skin of her stomach, just above the edge of her smalls, heard her sharp intake of breath. Cullen lifted his head, glanced up her body, her heaving chest, to meet her gaze in the dark as she lifted her head to look at him. “Don't stop,” she breathed out. “Please. Cullen-” She broke off and let out a long breath as he tugged her smalls down and replaced them with his mouth.

Lapping at her, he slid his arms under her thighs and slid his hands up to her waist. One of her hands came down over his, squeezing tight while the other twisted in the blankets. Her breathy moans were music to his ears, she was trying to be quiet, so as not to alert the troops he imagined, since he clearly remembered her gasping moans echoing off the walls below Skyhold had been completely unrestrained.

“Cullen,” she choked out when he began to circle her clit with his tongue, quick flicks that had her thighs squeezing tight and the hand that had been in the blankets tangled in his hair as if to keep him in position. He had no desire to ever move. Cullen could happily die then and there, right between her legs. Her back arched and her hand flew up to clamp over her mouth, but it did little to muffle her cries of pleasure.

Amelia was gasping softly as Cullen trailed kisses back up the length of her body, pushing the tunic up as he went. She clung to him, fingers digging into his skin. “Too many clothes,” she mumbled against his mouth when he leaned in to kiss her. Once the final offending item of clothing was gone, he settled between her thighs again, one arm propped beside her head, his other hand cupping her chin. “Amelia,” he murmured and she blinked up at him. It was dark in the tent, but he could see her looking at him. “Love,” he breathed and began to push into her.

Her lower lip trembled, Cullen stroked it with his thumb before he claimed her mouth again. His movements were slow, gentle rocking thrusts. She was still injured, despite her claims. He stroked his hand over her throat, and down to cup her breast, his touch barely there. She arched into him, her nails no doubt leaving grooves in his back. He adjusted the angle of his thrusts, swallowed her quiet keening cry.

When his hand slipped down between them she tore her mouth away from his with a gasp. “Love,” she panted. “Love, love-” she clung to him tighter than before, a sob escaping her as she came around him, so tight and fuck- Cullen's hips bucked, pushing himself deeper, faster. Amelia trembled and he felt her squeeze around him again, milking him. He drove deep as he came, silently cursing himself, but Amelia was holding him so tightly, her legs secure around his hips.

“Amelia,” he groaned softly, finding her mouth again in the dark, he kissed her, while silently hating himself for what he'd done. He rolled onto his side, taking Amelia with him. She pressed her face into his chest, Cullen stroked her hair, her bare back, pressed kisses to the crown of her head as her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some angst.

Amelia woke alone, her body pleasantly achy. She stretched and pushed up from the floor. Her clothes were sitting on the cot, and she dressed, used the small basin of water to splash water on her face and brush her teeth before she stepped out of the tent. It was late morning, Cullen didn't usually let her sleep so late, she thought. Everything was packed up, ready to go. They'd been waiting on her. She looked at Cullen and her heart plummeted into her stomach. _You will never be able to do anything right,_ she told herself. She could see the regret from across the camp.

“My lady,” Captain Rylen said coming up to her side. “Are you ready to depart?”

“Yes,” she nodded, forced a smile. “Of course, let's go.” He walked with her to her horse, helped her mount and then mounted his own. She glanced over her shoulder, Cullen and a few remained. “Where are the others?”

“They went ahead, my lady. They'll set up camp and we'll reach Skyhold by tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, she thought. It felt like it had been ages since she'd seen Skyhold. “Good,” she said absently, and they rode together in silence until they caught up with the rest of the troops. They stopped and made camp before dark, and Amelia anxiously watched the trail behind them, waiting. “Where is the Commander?” she asked and caught the look of panic in the man's eyes.

“I'm sure he'll arrive soon, my lady.”

“This tent is for you,” another of the men said and she stared at it.

“Well,” Amelia said quietly. “Thank you.” She inclined her head. “You know, I'm not feeling well, I think I'll go to bed early.”

“Someone should get your leg-”

She held up a hand. “It's fine, I can see to it.” Amelia entered her small tent, curled up on the cot and drew the blanket up over her head as she began to cry. Amelia didn't know how much sleep she managed to get and woke up feeling worse. When the nightmares had come to her, Cullen hadn't been there to banish them.

Her head ached, her throat was sore and she imagined the evidence of her tears were all over her face. Once again, they were all ready to go when she stepped out of her tent. She glanced around but saw no sign of Cullen. She wouldn't ask, no matter how badly she wanted to.

They were on their way again and Captain Rylen rode up beside her. “He decided to make the final push to Skyhold last night.”

Pain was a knot in her stomach. “Oh,” was all she said. Humiliation washed over her. She knew that they had all heard her that night. Knew what had happened. And now it seemed the esteemed Commander couldn't be far enough about from her.

When they arrived at Skyhold, Amelia headed straight for Josephine's office. “Oh, we were all so worried. How are you feeling? You-you do realize you are out of the Fade, correct?”

“Yes, Josephine.” Amelia forced the smile on to her face, was certain her cheeks would crack. “I am aware I am no longer in the Fade. I'm still a little out of sorts, but I'll be fine. Is Leliana around? I should-” she broke off as Cullen walked out of the War Room with Leliana.

“Inquisitor,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Commander,” she intoned. Awkward silence filled the room for several heartbeats.

“Inquisitor,” Leliana crossed the room and hugged her gently. “I am so pleased to see that you've returned.”

Amelia hugged her back, fought back the tears that threatened to choke her. “Thanks, Leliana.” Then they all stepped into the War Room, where Amelia told Josephine and Leliana everything, except for the more personal bits, but she imagined they suspected, what with the way Cullen hadn't said a word and refused to look at her.

“Cullen says you were in the Fade for twenty-four days. How...” Josephine pursed her lips. “How long was it for you? Time must move differently.”

She had a vague memory of him saying something to that effect. Twenty-four days. “Longer,” she said, pressing her fingers against the edge of the War table. It had felt like decades. Between fighting demons physically and mentally. “I don't remember opening a rift, but obviously,” she gave a slight wave of her hand. “But enough about me and my adventures, what has been going on here?”

They filled her in on Alistair making for Weishaupt and Hawke lingering at Skyhold for a while before she too left. They discussed Halamshiral, and the upcoming ball she'd attend. Her head ached. She was trying desperately to pay attention, but it was so difficult. “Maybe you should rest,” Josie said, placing a tender hand on Amelia's arm. “There is still time.”

“Right,” Amelia said, forcing a quiet laugh. “War room adjourned.” They left, and Amelia sunk down into one of the large chairs at the edge of the room. She pressed her face into her hands and a soft sob escaped. Maker, she had to apologize to Cullen, again. She didn't think he'd ever forgive her for this. She should never have asked him to make love to her. She hadn't expected he'd agree. But then he had, and it had been amazing. “You are an idiot, Amelia Trevelyan. An utter moron.”

She was forced to judge people for their crimes, someone should judge her. Punish her.

Knowing she couldn't sit around and mope, no matter how desperately she wanted to, she forced herself to get up, make the rounds. She spoke with each of her companions, touching base with them. They expressed their concern about her recent trip to the fade.

“Don't ever do anything like that again. You're the only friend I have, I'd rather not lose you quite yet,” Dorian said and she pulled him into a hug, she needed it more than he did, but the man didn't resist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Are you alright, Poppet?”

“Fine,” she told him, he saw through the lie, but let her pretend, for now.

She walked down through the courtyard and found heard raised voices coming from the armory. Her brow furrowed and she stepped toward the door, froze when she heard Cullen's voice. “This is no longer up for debate,” Cullen yelled.

Cassandra's voice was quiet and Amelia had a harder time hearing her words. “Cullen, I do not believe-”

“Captain Rylen will do fine as my replacement. He knows the-”

Amelia's breath caught and she pressed her hand to her mouth. He was leaving. Cullen was going to leave the Inquisition, and it was entirely her fault. After a few more minutes of their arguing, Amelia watched Cullen storm out the side door, unaware of her presence. Pushing open the door she looked at Cassandra. “How much of that did you hear?” she asked.

“Cullen wants to leave the Inquisition,” Amelia replied flatly.

“If anyone can change his mind, it is you,” Cassandra said, and Amelia almost snorted with laughter. Well, since it was her fault, yes. That was probably true.

Amelia left, tried to organize her thoughts, how she would beg for his forgiveness, but as she stepped through the door to his office, it all went out the window. He was angry and he had every right to be. “I spoke with Cassandra earlier, she tells me you're planning on leaving the Inquisition.” His jaw clenched and her heart gave a little kick.

“Please, Cullen, don't do this. I know- my actions- it was wrong-” her words came out jumbled and her throat clogged up with tears. “I know sorry isn't good enough for what I-”

“Don't!” the word was a harsh bite, his hand slashing through the air.

Amelia's mouth snapped shut and she felt ill.

The opposite door opened. “Commander,” a scout stood in the doorway. “A report from Hansen.” Cullen looked up, held his hand out for the missive.

“If you'll excuse us, Inquisitor. I must see to this matter.”

Amelia blinked rapidly. “Of course,” her voice was raw. “But, please, Commander, -” he wasn't paying any attention to her, his eyes flying over the report. She'd never forgive herself if he left. Even if he stayed, she knew she wouldn't. His reasons for not wanting to be with her, or even to be friends with her, were his own, and she'd manipulated him to get what she'd wanted. The scout glanced warily between the two of them, and Amelia gave a little half-shrug before turning and walking out the door.

  
“We are going to Val Royeaux,” Josephine said coming up the stairs to Amelia's quarters.

Her brow furrowed as she looked up from where she was going over the paperwork that had piled up while she'd been at Adamant. “Why?” she asked cautiously.

“You need a gown for the Grand Ball.”

“No,” Amelia said with a slight shake of her head. “I'll just wear-”

“You must dress the part, you are of a noble household, you know how these things work. In Orlais, it is even more critical that you play the part.”

“Then order something for me,” Amelia waved her hand, looking back at her papers. “I'm sure you have all my measurements on file, whatever you pick will be fine.”

Then Josephine was on the other side of her desk, she dropped her hands onto the table and leaned forward, her eyes taking on a nearly maniacal gleam. “We are going to Val Royeaux in the morning,” she said, slowly, intently.

“Okay,” Amelia leaned back slightly. “Alright, whatever you say, Josie. Just please, don't kill me.”

Josephine huffed, tugged at the bottom of her jacket. “That depends on how you behave when we reach Val Royeaux.” She left just as quickly as she'd entered and Amelia sighed heavily.


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

> _Dear Cullen,_
> 
> _I'm sorry._
> 
> _Please, come back. I cannot imagine why you would want to. I don't blame you for leaving, I can honestly say I don't care to be around myself at the moment either. But the Inquisition needs you. You are one of my most trusted advisors._
> 
> _We leave for Halamshiral in a few days, and while I absolutely trust Captain Rylen, he doesn't have your experience._
> 
> ~~_Josie and Leliana made me try on all these atrocious dresses in Val Royeaux before they decided on the most ostentatious one imaginable. It is horrible, all lace and satin. I love it._ ~~
> 
> ~~_You don't care about my dress._ ~~
> 
> _Are you even reading this? Or did you burn it the moment it arrived? I wouldn't blame you._
> 
> _I hope you are well, that there is some joy or peace for you wherever it is that you've gone. Don't forget to write to Mia. She worries._
> 
> _I would take it_ all _back if I could._
> 
> _Be safe,_  
>  _Amelia_

Amelia hated the game. Hated Orlesians. Hated herself. She walked back into the ballroom, intent on finding Leliana and relaying the information she'd found when she came to an abrupt halt. Cullen stood with her and Josephine, and he was smiling. Amelia was fairly certain she'd never seen him smile like that.

She spun on her heel and barreled into the chest of some nobleman. “Oh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.”

“Do me the favor of a dance, and it's forgotten,” he said with a laugh, and as much as she detested the idea, Amelia obliged the man. They were playing the game. She needed the Court to approve of her, or all of this was for naught.

He tried to lure her into another dance once it was finished, but she politely declined and slipped away. The hem of her dress snagged on a broken crate after they found the elven servants dead in the kitchens. Angrily, she'd kicked the crate, only to make matters worse when the bite from the Fade, that had only really just begun to heal began to throb painfully.

Leliana, Josephine and Captain Rylen approached her once they had taken care of the Venatori. Cullen came up to stand beside Rylen as she was telling them what had happened. After recounting the tale, she walked away and did her best not to limp the rest of the evening.

Leaning her elbows on the balustrade, Amelia pressed her face into her hands. She didn't care about her makeup anymore. Her dress was ruined, the night had been an utter disaster, she couldn't imagine it getting any worse. Empress Celene was dead because she hadn't been quick enough. They had all the information, she believed she would have been able to force them all to work together, but closing the Fade rift had been harder, and taken more time than it should have. So when Amelia shoved open the doors to the ballroom, it was just in time to see Duchess Florian plunge the blade into Celene's back.

A sound caught her attention, footsteps soft on the stone beside her. “If you're an assassin come to kill me, please, do it quick before anyone has realized I'm missing,” she said, only half joking.

“Amelia.”

She flinched and jerked upright to find Cullen looking at her, brow furrowed in concern. She quickly looked away, grabbed the bottle of wine she'd pilfered from the bar and took a swig. “Commander,” she said. Then frowned. What was she supposed to call him, if he wasn't commanding her troops?

“Are you alright?” Cullen asked and tears burned her eyes.

“Don't be nice to me, Commander, I beg of you.” She was already waging a losing battle with her emotions at the moment and felt like she'd shatter at any moment.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “You look-”

She let out a quiet snort, looked down at her ruined dress. The skirt was torn and dirty, the bodice even worse off. The pale gold detailing was now dark red with blood. “Poor Josephine will have a fit when she sees the damage to the dress, I'm sure.” Josephine had already seen it, had been more concerned about Amelia's welfare. Amelia was the one who was distraught about the dress. It had been so over the top, so beautiful, and now it was a disaster too.

“Maker's Breath, Amelia,” Cullen reached for her, but she stepped back, avoiding his touch. “You're hurt.”

“It's fine.” She took another drink. It had hurt, still hurt, but the bleeding had stopped. “Just a scratch,” she told him. “Excuse me, Commander.” She had no idea why he'd come to the ball, but she didn't believe it had anything to do with returning to the Inquisition. He caught her arm as she headed for the door and she froze.

“I think we need to talk,” he said, voice low and Amelia nodded.

“I know,” it was a whisper. “But, can it wait? Tonight has been a colossal fail, and I just want-” to drink herself into oblivion. “I know the last thing I deserve is any kindness, but I am begging you, please.”

“Of course, Inquisitor.” He released her arm and Amelia made her escape.

Gratefully, the Inquisition had acquired accommodations far from where the Grand Ball was being held. Amelia rode in the carriage with a silent Cassandra. Amelia then went straight up to her room, still clutching the bottle of wine. She bathed, put on her pajamas and dropped into the oversized chair with the wine. An hour later she'd barely drank a third of it.

All she had wanted was to talk to Cullen, but when he had finally wanted to talk, she'd run. “Maker, you're a fool.” Because really, what could be said? She had manipulated him, and he'd been too nice to resist. Giving up on getting drunk, and only because it was so late, Amelia slipped from her room and walked down to the large garden. It was large and beautiful. The night blooming flowers filled the air with their sweet scent and she sat down on one of the stone benches.

“You're still having nightmares?” Because of course, she wouldn't be allowed a seconds peace.

She looked at Cullen, wearing a simple tunic and loose pants. “Yes,” she said because it was true. They weren't the same nightmares, no longer ones of the Fade, but of the demons, she had created herself.

He sat down on an adjacent bench and for a long time, the only sound was the water splashing gently into the fountain. “You were beautiful this evening,” Cullen said and Amelia's brow furrowed. It was a dream, she thought. She'd actually passed out in the chair drunk, and in another minute Cullen would tell her how much he hated her. That was how it usually worked. “I apologize for leaving Skyhold as I did, there was a very urgent matter I needed to attend to.”

“Cassandra tried to tell me you went to visit Mia. I know better. I trust that everything went well?”

She watched his face in the soft light from moon and lanterns. Saw the faint smile turn up the corner of his mouth. “It did.”

“Good,” Amelia murmured, stared down at her hands. “Will you be returning to Skyhold?”

“That depends,” he said, and Amelia closed her eyes against the tears.

“On?”

“You.”

“I'm sorry,” she choked out. “I can't say it enough. I know it isn't good enough. I know I can never make up for what I did,” the words came in a rush, and when she looked up he was staring at the fountain. “I'll do whatever you want, Cullen. If you never want to speak to me again, or if you want to judge me like I've judged so many others, I'll do it.

“I will never forgive myself, I can't even begin to ask you to. I wish I could take it back.” Despite the fact that it had been the most amazing night she'd ever had, the pleasure, the emotions akin to love. “You made it clear that you were not interested from the beginning, and yet I-”

“How long had you known you weren't in the Fade?” He turned his head slightly, still watching the fountain.

Tears burned her eyes and she clenched her jaw. “The first night that you refused to make-” she swallowed. “The first night you refused, I had begun to suspect. That final night, I was well aware that I had escaped the Fade, though I truly don't remember how.”

Long minutes passed, and Amelia wasn't sure he was going to say anything. “I hated myself,” he finally said and tears filled her eyes. _Her fault_. “I truly believed you thought you were still in the Fade. And when I made love to you-” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I hated that I had taken advantage of you when you were not in your right mind.” He pushed up to his feet but still didn't look at her. He was staring up at the fountain still and Amelia wondered what he saw. Then she realized it was a very obscene rendering of a couple intertwined. “When I realized you blamed yourself for what had happened, I was even angrier. But knowing you had done it, intentionally-”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, ducking her head again.

“Stop,” he sighed. “Stop apologizing. I don't blame you and if you don't blame me, then maybe we need to just move past it.”

She peered up at him, he had turned and was now looking at her, hands at his sides, and he looked tired too. “Forget it happened?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I know that I can't, and I imagine neither can you.”

“Then where do we go from here?”

“We head back to Skyhold in the morning and move forward with our plans to stop Corypheus.”

That meant he was coming back. She nodded her head quickly. “Okay.”

Cullen tucked his hands into his pockets, turned back to the fountain, moving around it, looking at it from different angles with a confused look on his face. “You're the one who told Mia where I was when all of this began.”

“She worries,” Amelia said with a shrug.

“I spent months trying to figure out who told her,” he said shaking his head. “I never would have imagined it was you. I had figured it was Leliana. She likes to interfere. I had no idea the two of you kept in contact after that summer.”

“After Sophia ended up in the Circle, she was a kind ear. I didn't think you would have remembered me.”

“It wasn't instant, you changed. But when I heard your name,” he glanced over at her.

“You haven't changed,” she said with a quiet laugh. “Though you do style your hair a bit differently these days. According to Leliana, you spend nearly as much time on it as Dorian does his mustache.”

Cullen made a quiet indignant sound and for a second, Amelia forgot about all their troubles and just laughed.

“You're exhausted,” he said quietly. “You need to rest.”

“All out of wine,” she said with a shrug.

“Has your chess game improved at all? There is a board in the library. Maybe a boring game will put you to sleep.”

“Alright,” Amelia agreed and walked with Cullen back inside and down the silent halls to the library, where they played until the sun came up.

  
Aching from the journey back to Skyhold, Amelia stretched as she made her way down the long entryway, desperate for a few moments alone. “My lady,” Amelia bit back a groan at the voice. Mother Giselle. She turned around and watched the woman walk toward her. “I believe you may want to visit the forge,” she said with a glance at the door.

“Shit,” Amelia sighed. “What's Dagna done now?” She adored the young woman and was always impressed by the things she'd accomplished, but she was also a little bit terrified that she'd blow up half of Skyhold.

“It's best you see for yourself.”

Resigned, Amelia headed for the door. She pushed it open and inhaled. She didn't smell smoke, so that was promising. “Dagna?” she called, walking down the stairs. “Harrit? What's-” she froze.

Nikolaas sat in a chair, his crutches leaning against one of the work tables. A woman stood at the table, blonde hair loose down her back. Amelia blinked rapidly when her eyes were suddenly filled with tears. _No_ , she thought. _It wasn't-_

Then the woman turned and Amelia couldn't restrain herself. She ran down the stairs. “Sophia!” it was a sob as she threw her arms around her sister and clung to her as tightly as she could.


	11. Chapter 11

Amelia felt Sophia's arms come around her, knew it was only because she was clinging to her so tightly. “I'll leave you two,” Nikolaas said, grabbing his crutches and pushing up from the chair.

“You'll come back?” Sophia asked.

“Of course I will.”

Amelia couldn't stop crying. She buried her face in Sophia's shoulder and wept. At some point, she realized they'd sunk down to the floor, and Sophia still held her. “Tell me what happened,” she finally managed to say, drawing back to look at Sophia. She looked no worse for wear. Amelia couldn't stop herself. She reached up, stroked her sister's cheek before taking Sophia's hands in hers where she just held them.

“The Circle fell. Mages and Templars fought. Nikolaas took me away. We stayed in a cave for a time. He worries. Was afraid to leave me alone. He would only leave for short times. It was fine. I would stay in the back, silent and wait. He had made contact with some Templars that had not gone rogue and were not taking the Red Lyrium. Then he received a letter from Commander Cullen. We began to make our way to Skyhold immediately, but we were overtaken by Red Templars. I am very skilled at manipulating lyrium, Nikolaas was hurt, and I agreed to go with them. There was no reason for him to be injured more.”

“You're crying,” Amelia said and watched Sophia reach up to wipe away the tears from her face.

“My body reacting to outside stimuli,” she said, but her brow furrowed in confusion. “The Red Templars, as the Commander called them, put me to work. I did as they asked. Then one evening, two men came in, they were not the Red Templars. One was Commander Cullen, and he told me that the Red Templars were doing evil. That they killed people, and would potentially kill you. So I agreed to leave with him.”

Amelia chewed on her lip, still clutching to Sophia's hand. Was it her imagination or had Sophia squeezed back? Her imagination. “Why would you care if they kill me?” Amelia couldn't help but ask.

“We are still family,” Sophia said. “Dagna is very skilled for being a dwarf, I believe that there is much we will be able to accomplish together.”

“I'm sure,” Amelia said quietly. She felt overwhelmed and exhausted. That was where Cullen had gone? To rescue Sophia? “I should let you-” she pushed up to her feet. “I'll send Nikolaas back in.”

Sophia nodded, stood as well, smoothing out the front of her dress. “His presence does make it easier to focus.”

Amelia slipped through the door and was unsurprised to find Nikolaas leaning against the wall, waiting. She couldn't form words past the lump in her throat, she just reached over, squeezed his arm and walked away. She wanted to track down Cullen, needed to thank him for what he'd done, but right then, she couldn't. Instead, she went up to her quarters, bathed, and then sat down on her bed. Cullen had gone and rescued Sophia.

Finally getting to her feet she headed down to the war room and awaited her advisors. They discussed the events that happened, and what their next steps would be. “Cullen,” Amelia said quietly as they began to disperse. “A moment, please?”

He leaned his hip against the edge of the war table. “Inquisitor,” he spoke softly. “I trust your sister is doing well?”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Maker,” her jaw trembled. “Cullen, I can't even begin to thank you for what you did. You have no idea,” her voice wavered and she reached up to wipe away her tears. “Why didn't you say something?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn't know what would happen, I didn't want to tell you we'd found her, only to have the information be wrong, or for her to be-” he broke off and ducked his head down.

Amelia knew she shouldn't, knew she should keep her distance, but she stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I will be forever in your debt, Cullen, You brought me back my sister when I had feared I would never see her again.” She stepped back, but he caught her wrist, she froze, looked up at him and they just stood there like that for several minutes before he finally released her.

“I was happy to do it,” he said quietly, before leaving the war room.

  
Amelia lifted the bottle of whiskey up to her lips and took a deep swallow. It had stopped burning after the first several chugs, now she just felt its warmth slide down her throat and into her belly. How much longer until she simply passed out? She was so tired, only wanted to sleep for a few hours. Tipping her head back with the bottle to her lips she took another long pull, saw Cullen approaching from the corner of her eye, and swallowed again, then again. “Maker's breath,” Cullen reached out and tugged the bottle from her hand.

“Hey,” she scowled. “Give that back.” Then she watched with mouth hanging open as he brought the bottle to his own lips, took a drink, then held the bottle upside down.

“Now it's empty,” he told her with a slight cough.

“Rude,” Amelia muttered, then reached under the blanket and pulled out the second bottle, or was it her third? She couldn't remember. She pulled the stopper from the top and had barely managed to get a gulp down when he yanked it from her hand.

“How many do you have hidden under there?” Cullen demanded, grabbing the stopper from her other hand. He corked the bottle and set it on the table behind him.

Amelia sighed, tossed back the blanket to show that she was out of booze, just the empty bottle that she had been rolling under her foot. “Is there something I can do for you Commander?” she asked, annoyed that he'd interrupted her perfectly good sulk. She hadn't seen him in nearly a week. He'd been ill, had made a few small appearances that involved yelling at the troops before retreating to his quarters again, asking not to be disturbed.

“Can't sleep?” he asked, voice a little gentler as he sat down on the end of the low backed bench she sat on in the courtyard.

She shrugged her shoulders, refused to look at him and instead stared at the flame in the lamp burning beside her. “I don't regret it,” she finally said, voice a whisper. Might as well make peace with it, she thought. Honest truth, it wouldn't change things, one way or the other.

“Don't regret what?”

“You,” she turned her head and looked at him as she spoke. “I don't regret the sex. I said I did, both times, and it's a fucking lie. I've been in love with you since I was thirteen, I dreamed about the wedding we would never have because I knew I'd never see you again, you were off being a Templar, being some defender of the innocent. I built up this fantasy in my head, the courtship, the wedding, what would come after, children and pets, they all had names. Of course, in my fantasy, Sophia wasn't a Tranquil, or even a mage and my mother was still alive, but that was not the point I was making.” Her brow furrowed at Cullen's thoughtful expression.

“I imagine I don't quite live up to the fantasy,” he said, a wry smile turning up his lips. “What were their names?”

Amelia let out a quiet sob because this was not what she'd meant to happen. “No, you surpassed the fantasy. You-” she swallowed. “Opal and Lukas, the dogs were- No, damn it, the point is that I don't regret sleeping with you. I'm sorry for that, for any stress, anger, or whatever unwelcome emotions it caused. I know you said it was a mistake, and that you didn't want to be friends, but I pushed and I pushed because I'm selfish. I wanted you, and apparently, I didn't care how you felt about the situation. So for that, I am sorry,” she sniffled, used her sleeve to wipe at her nose, then leaned forward to grab the bottle off the table and take a drink before Cullen took it from her again.

“I could have easily said no,” Cullen said, leaning back on the bench, he slid his arm around Amelia's shoulders, grabbed the bottle from her again, took a drink himself, then corked it and set it on the ground beside him, out of her reach. “I've always wanted a dog.”

“We had three,” she told him quietly. “Aris, Nyx and Sir Barks-Alot.”

He let out a low chuckle. “You didn't overpower me with your wiles, or your strength, Amelia. I wanted you. I regretted that I had taken advantage of you, after your time in the Fade. Regardless of the fact that you knew you were no longer in the Fade, I took advantage.”

She was shaking her head. “You didn't. I knew what I was asking for.”

They sat in silence for a while before Cullen got to his feet and turned to her. “You're exhausted,” he said.

“Can't sleep,” she shrugged. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten more than just a few restless, nightmare-filled, hours.

“I seem to remember you sleeping quite soundly in my arms,” Cullen was holding his hand out to her and she frowned at it, shaking her head.

“No,” she told him, then stopped shaking her head, because it started to spin. “Don't, I'm fine, I don't need you to hold me out of pity so I can sleep. I'm not-” Maker, what was wrong with her? She was going to start crying and that just pissed her off.

“It isn't out of pity, darling.” Cullen caught her hand and pulled her to her feet, and her body didn't resist, no matter how much she mentally screamed at it. _Darling_. He'd called her _darling_. “This is me being selfish,” he murmured the words against her ear as he held her against his chest, and then he slipped his arm around her waist and lead her to his office. “Up,” he said, pointing to the ladder and she was still trying to resist in her mind.

“No,” she said, but leaned into him when he nudged her up the first rung. “Why, I don't-I don't understand.”

“I need to sleep and I need you to sleep. I need to hold you.” He pressed close her her on the ladder, and she had no choice but to start climbing. At the top she glanced around, the room was sparse and cold, her brow furrowed as she felt a breeze, glanced up and her mouth fell open.

“There is a hole in your roof. Why is there a hole in your roof?”

Cullen had crossed the room and was lighting a fire in the grand fireplace. “It was there when we got here.”

“Well,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I didn't think you blew the ceiling off yourself. I think I was more asking why hasn't it been fixed?” But, Maker, the sky was pretty. The scar left from the breach was beautiful, if terrifying and deadly. It was quite the view. She felt Cullen move to stand behind her, hands sliding around her waist, he pressed a kiss against the back of her head and her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Lay down with me, and I'll tell you everything,” he said softly, tugging her toward the bed.

Amelia didn't resist, couldn't. She wanted this, desperately, but she was terrified that this was a dream, or what in the bright morning light, Cullen would regret this. She let him pull him into his arms, pressed her face into his chest and for a moment felt so at peace, she forgot everything else. She splayed her hand out over his chest, felt his heart beating under her palm. “Tell me,” she said quietly, felt one of his hands rub up and down her back, the other curling over her hip.

“I know you don't know most of this because I didn't tell Mia. During the Blight, Kinloch Hold was taken over by abominations. Myself and my colleagues were tortured, most of them broke, somehow, I didn't.” Amelia felt a lump in her throat, curled her fingers into a fist in the front of his shirt and his hold tightened on her as well. “After that, I was not kind. I harbored resentment toward any and all mages, usually, without reason, but simply based on the fact that they were a mage. In Kirkwall, I didn't do any better. I turned a blind eye far too often to questionable practices and I-” he paused, pressed his lips against Amelia's forehead. “I hate myself for the things I did, and I am still trying to make amends.”

Tipping her head back, she slid her hand up to touch his jaw, felt the scruff of his beard under her fingers. He looked at her, met her gaze. “You are a good man,” she said softly. She knew in the morning they would be back to how it had been before, formal and polite, not friends, and definitely not lovers. She'd regret the hurt in the morning, but she couldn't bring herself to push him away, or to climb off that bed. Instead, she pressed her lips to his ever so softly.

“I'm not,” he said against her mouth, tongue dipping in, stroking over hers. “But I hope that one day soon I will be,” he murmured against her mouth before drawing back enough to look at her again. “Sleep, love,” his voice was soft and Cullen reached up to stroke a hand over her hair.

Her heart gave a little kick to her chest. She blinked rapidly to stave off the burn of tears, and pressed her face into his throat, breathed in the musk of him. _Sweat and leather and,_ her mouth turned up into a slight smile, _the same pomade that Dorian used_.

  
Lips woke her. Soft lips pressing gentle kisses along her jaw, her throat. A tongue trailed up the same path. Her fingers were in hair and she moaned softly, back arching. “Are you sober enough to agree to this?” Cullen's voice was a gruff whisper.

Her head ached, but not as bad as she'd anticipated after all she'd drank. She cracked open her eyes, it was still dark, the sky only just beginning to lighten with the hints of sunrise. “I'm sober,” she murmured, tugging his mouth to hers. “Are you?”

Cullen groaned, covered her mouth with his and pinned her to the mattress with his body. “You said you loved me,” he said, pulling back from the kiss to look at her.

“What?” Maker, she'd said that hadn't she? “Thirteen years ago, I was in love with you,” she quipped, but nothing had changed. She still adored him.

“You planned our wedding, named our children.”

Amelia blushed at the reminder of her words. “Don't forget the pets, _dear-heart_.” She didn't know where this was going. The conversation seemed to be going one way, while his hands, _oh Maker_ , his hands were slipping beneath her shirt, calloused fingers skimming up her ribs.

He nipped her lower lip lightly, then brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “I want you Amelia, I have wanted you from the start of this.”

“You said you didn't want to be friends,” she said quietly and his hands stilled. Her own hands were on his shoulders, curled around the back of his neck.

“I stopped taking the Lyrium,” he told her and her brow furrowed.

“When? That could kill you, couldn't it?” She didn't know much about it, but that Templars took Lyrium, and most grew addicted to it.

“When Cassandra first approached me in Kirkwall. It has been a hard battle, I've lost faith in myself at times.” Amelia cupped his cheek, searched his eyes. “I pushed you away. This is my burden to bear, Amelia, I never wanted it to effect you, or anyone. I gave everything to the Templars, I refused to do any less for the Inquisition.”

“Last week, when you were sick-” he closed his eyes and she lifted her head to brush a kiss over his cheek, to his ear. “You are so brave. I wished you'd have told me. You don't have to go through it alone, Cullen. I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you.”

Cullen's arms went around her waist, hugging her tightly to him, he pressed his face into the crook of her neck and she slid her fingers into his hair, curled her legs around his waist, just wanting to hold him, to reassure him that he wasn't alone. Long minutes passed, and she felt him began to press kisses against her collarbone, up the side of her neck. “Will you let me make love to you?” he asked softly.

She pushed him back enough to look at him again. “No regrets, Cullen. I can't-” she drew in a breath. “Not again, not like before. If it's just sex-”

“It is not _just_ sex,” he stated, kissed her again, distracted her. “If you think I'd let you go a third time, you're wrong.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. What crappy smut. I'm so not happy with this chapter, but it's a transition one really.

Amelia's breath hitched in her throat when his mouth brushed along her cheek to her ear. “Love,” he murmured.

“Wait,” she pressed her hands against his chest, and Maker, she couldn't believe what she was doing. Cullen froze, letting her push him away. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. She sat up and stared at him.

“Amelia,” he said, his hand reaching out to rest on her knee. “If you don't want-”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no that isn't it. I'm just-” scared. She was terrified. Twice already they had been intimate, and both times it had ended badly. “You are sure you aren't inebriated in any way?”

His mouth turned up into that wicked little half smile and she felt her heart flutter in her chest, she watched him sit up and didn't resist when he tugged her into his lap so she straddled his thighs, pressed chest to chest. “Amelia Anne Trevelyan,” Cullen said tipping his face back to look up at her. His hands grazed up her sides, her throat, then into her hair, pushing the thick black curls back from her face. “I adore you, I shouldn't have pushed you away. We've been at this for over a year now, looking back, I realize I could have had you, every single night, in my bed beside me. I'm a fool. It won't be long before the Inquisition is done until we've defeated Corypheus,” he smiled. “Until you've defeated Corypheus. What will come after that? The very thought of you leaving, of not seeing you, of not having you in my life...” he trailed off and shook his head, wiped at the tear that rolled down her cheek.

“You ass,” she half laughed, half sobbed, and then kissed him, her hands in his hair, she pressed as close to him as she could.

Cullen slid one hand around her back, clutching her to him, while his other stroked her thigh. “Does that mean you still love me,” he mumbled against her mouth and she snorted quietly, nipped his lower lip.

“Absolutely not,” she told him, pressed kisses down his throat and pushed him onto his back, slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt and felt the smooth skin and hard muscles of his abs.

“Liar,” he groaned, and his hands tangled in her hair when she shifted down and pressed a kiss to the skin just below his bellow button. “Maker, Amelia.” She was pushing his shirt up, so he lifted himself up enough to tug it up and over his head, and then looked at her.

“Commander,” she murmured quietly, smirking slightly. “I don't think I've had the opportunity to properly appreciate this chest,” she said and then leaned in and pressed a kiss to the center of it. She'd seen him without his shirt plenty of times, had had her hands all over it. But the sun was beginning to flood the room and he was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen.

“Amelia,” he said and she peeked up at him, saw his blush and laughed quietly before letting her teeth gently scrape over one nipple. He hissed, arched into her touch, fingers tangled in her hair again. Her hands danced over his skin, traced the muscles, the scars, dipped down to trace along course hair that dipped down below the waistband of his pants. “Amelia, love,” he choked as her tongue trailed along his hip bone.

“Hmm?” she hummed quietly, tugging at the laces of his breeches. “Something I can help you with dear-heart?” He caught her under her arms and she yelped, then began laughing when he yanked her up and rolled her onto her back. “I was in the middle of something,” she said, letting her hands glide over his back to slip into the back of his pants, her fingers curling over his butt.

“I feel as though we're a little unevenly matched, love,” he reared up onto his knees and she looked up at him, shirtless with the sun at his back, his pants hung low on his hips and with the sun glinting at his back, he looked like a statue made of gold. She bracketed him with her thighs, slide her legs around his waist, but didn't pull him back down to her. She rather liked this view, plus, it gave him easier access to unlacing her boots. She watched him untie one, and toss it over his shoulder before the other one joined it. She heard the thump and then a pause and a dull thud.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Cullen chuckled quietly. “Oops,” he said and Amelia pushed up onto her elbows.

“Where is my boot?” she asked, able to see one, near the edge of the loft. The other one must have gone over the edge. “Oh Maker,” she laughed quietly, then flopped back onto the bed. “Are you going to come down here and kiss me now?”

Cullen grinned, slid his hands along her legs, up calves over her thighs and hips, and under her shirt, then he leaned down to claim her mouth, but was interrupted by a banging on one of the doors downstairs. Cullen froze, Amelia's hands gripped his shoulders. They waited. The door opened. “Commander, the-” the voice cut off.

No doubt, they had seen Amelia's shoe laying on the floor. “Never mind, Commander, it isn't important,” the voice called, then the door slammed and they could hear his voice carry through the windows. “The Commander isn't to be disturbed.”

“How long do you think it will take them to realize who you have up here in your bed, Commander?” Amelia asked, sliding her hands over his chest.

“Half an hour tops.” Then he was kissing her. Amelia moaned and pushed every other thought from her mind, thinking only of Cullen and of his wicked mouth. Cullen stripped her of her shirt, then both of their pants joined the growing pile of clothes tossed over his shoulder.

Cullen settled between Amelia's thighs, groaned and the wet heat so close, just a slight shift of his hips and he could push inside her. “Cullen,” Amelia said quietly, reaching up to stroke her fingers over his cheeks, lips, jaw. He leaned his face into her tender touch, eyes slipping shut. He pressed a kiss to her palm, then reached up, caught her hands with his and pressed them to the mattress, fingers laced together.

Her name was a breath on his lips as he began to push into her, she arched beneath him, met his gaze and held it when he began to rock his hips against hers, slow steady thrusts. Amelia squeezed his hands, her thighs tightened around his waist. Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, her hair was dark against the white sheets and he wanted to memorize every detail of that moment, wanted to drag it out as long as possible. How could he have pushed her away? How could he have let her go not once, but twice?

Never again. He leaned down, claimed her lips in a fierce kiss. She moaned into his mouth her tongue tangling with his. Cullen let go of one of her hands, trailed his fingers down her arm, stroked her breast before sliding around her to lift her hips off the bed, changing the angle he pushed deeper, began to move faster. She gasped, her free hand coming up to grip his shoulder, short nails digging into his skin, the little pain made him groan and buck his hips.

“Cullen!” She cried out tossing her head back.

“Come for me, Amelia.” He leaned in to run his tongue along the shell of her ear, felt her tremble, heard her whimper. “That's it,” he murmured, nipped at her earlobe. “Maker, you're beautiful, flushed and trembling. You feel so good.”

“Love-” her breath hitched and he felt her walls flutter around his cock and she gripped his hand tighter. “Love you,” it was a soft cry as she came, and Cullen kissed her, letting himself fall over the precipice with her.

He rolled onto his back dragging her with him, let hands roam over her back, as he tried to regain his breath. Amelia sprawled over him, her cheek resting against his shoulder, her breath coming in soft puffs against his throat. Cullen pressed his lips to her forehead, then tugged the blanket up over them. He knew they both had things to do, knew that Amelia would be leaving for Emprise du Lion soon. But he didn't want to let her go, didn't want to let her out of his bed, let alone his arms.

It was a long while later before she pushed up onto her elbows, rested them on either side of his head and pressed a long slow kiss to his lips. “No regrets?” she asked, voice tentative.

“Not a single one,” he told her, hands on her waist. “I told you-”

“I know, but-” she half shrugged.

“I love you,” he said and she blinked, blinked a few more times, then she let out a quiet sob and kissed him.

“I love you, I love you,” she mumbled and Cullen kissed her back, then rolled her onto her back once again, tucking her beneath him. “Maker,” she murmured. “Again?” then laughed when he found the ticklish spot on her throat and kissed it. “You're insatiable.”

There was a knock on the door downstairs, then it opened. Cullen was about to yell, tell whoever it was to get out, but then Cassandra's voice carried up to them. “Inquisitor, your sister would like to speak with you.”

Amelia giggled at the disappointed look that crossed Cullen's features, pressed a kiss against his shoulder. “Thank you, Cassandra, I'll be right there.” The door closed again and reluctantly the duo climbed out of bed and dressed. Down in Cullen's office, he knelt at Amelia's feet and laced her boots up for her before standing and dragging her into his arms.

“How about you come to my quarters tonight,” she said, running her hands down his chest.

Cullen slipped one hand into her hair and pressed his forehead against hers. “Yes,” he said quietly.

Finally, they parted, and Amelia walked out of his office with her head high and her back straight, ignoring the looks. It wasn't scandalous, word had probably already spread like wildfire, and she didn't care who knew. She jogged along the walkway to the other tower, said a quick hello to Solas before making her way to the forge.

Sophia was alone, staring out the large opening at the snow falling. At least, that is what Amelia assumed she was looking at. “Cassandra said you wanted to speak to me,” she said coming to stand beside her.

Sophia turned her face to look at her, then looked back outside. “You have been making out with the Commander.”

Amelia snorted quietly, touched her face. “How can you tell? And for the record, I did a lot more than make out with him.”

“You have whisker burn on your cheeks.”

Amelia blushed, ducked her head. “Well, what did you want to speak about?”

“Nikolaas informed me that there is a possible way to reverse Tranquility.”

Amelia's breath caught in her throat. “Yes, the Seekers, Cassandra said she would- Is that something you would want?” Amelia's heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted her sister back. But they didn't know the risks, didn't know if it would work, and if it did, what would it do to someone who had been emotionless for years?

“I-” Sophia looked at Amelia. “I do not know. I need to speak with Seeker Cassandra. I believe that Nikolaas wants me to attempt it, but he is afraid. I would like your opinion.”

“I agree with Nikolaas. But we don't know what would happen. It could potentially kill you.”

“Which would you prefer,” Sophia asked. “A Tranquil sister, or a dead one?”

Tears welled up in Amelia's eyes. “This isn't my decision to make, Soph. I love you, I don't want to lose you. Yes, it hurts that you're Tranquil, but at least you're here, you're alive, you're safe. But as I said, this isn't my choice. This has to be yours.”

“I will speak with the Seeker, seek others opinions as well.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia returns after months away. Smut ensues.
> 
> and angst.
> 
> Copious amounts of angst. So much angst.

After nearly two and a half months away from Skyhold, Amelia could hardly contain herself. They'd be there by mid-afternoon. But it was too long. She couldn't wait. She pushed her horse to the front of the cavalcade, but still, too slow. She leaned forward, gave her horse a nudge and then they were flying. Amelia made a mental note to give her horse lots of extra apples as they approached the gate to Skyhold. The soldiers looked surprised, then saluted her.

“Give him extra apples, thanks!” she yelled, dismounting and then she was running, she took the stone stairs two at a time, nearly knocked over one of the lookouts. She called an apology over her shoulder, and then she was shoving open Cullen's door. They'd exchanged a handful of letters during her time away, and Amelia was anxious to see him again.

Cullen stood up with a start as his door flew open, then was promptly slammed shut again. “Maker, Amelia-” But his words were cut off when she launched herself into his arms, kissed him hard, teeth bumping. He tasted blood. Cullen groaned and cupped the back of her head, his other arm going around her waist. He picked her up off her feet, held her tight against him.

Amelia broke the kiss, dropped to her knees and began undoing the laces on his trousers. “Amelia,” he choked out. “What are you-” he groaned. He knew exactly what she was doing, and his hands shot out to grab the edge of his desk when her mouth wrapped around his half-hard erection. That was all it took. His cock went hard, he heard her moan, she gave him one firm suck, then released him. “Fuck-” Cullen's head was spinning, and he didn't resist when Amelia pushed him back onto his desk, climbed over him, shoving her pants down as she went.

“I need you.” She impaled herself on him in the next instant. Amelia cried out, and Cullen yelled, his hands going to her hips. Amelia planted her hands on his chest, peered down at Cullen and smiled. “I missed you,” she told him, and then rolled her hips, taking him deeper. “So much.”

“You're early,” he said with a groan as he planted his feet on the edge of the desk, pushed his hips up, matching her rhythm. One of his hands slid up to cup her breast through her shirt, then up along her throat to trace her lips.

She drew one of his fingers into her mouth, sucked on it, moaned when he bucked beneath her. “I rushed ahead,” she told him, kissed his palm, and then finally leaned down to kiss him sweetly. “I needed to see you.” Amelia rubbed the tip of her nose against his.

Cullen let out a soft groan, cupped the back of her head and kissed her. Her movements were slower now, less frantic, now that she had him where she wanted him. “Maker, I missed you,” he murmured against her mouth. She had sent updates during their time in Emprise du Lion, the usual updates about closing rifts and wiping out Red Templars. But had included letters meant just for Cullen. About the woman who had been infected with Red Lyrium and the letter she'd written to her love, about how much she missed him. How he really should write to his sister. He had.

Amelia reared up, tipped her head back as she moved over him. It was a beautiful sight, Cullen thought. He wanted to see her like this, naked, skin damp with perspiration, hair loose and falling down her back. But for now, it would do. He slid his hand down to where they were joined, found her clit and began to trace circles around her. She made a quiet sound, looked at him and then held his gaze. Cullen met her thrust for thrust, flicked her clit faster.

The next sound she made wasn't nearly as quiet. Her hips stuttered in their movement, inner walls clenched around him. Cullen gripped her hips, drove into her and followed her into pleasure. They lay on the desk, breathing hard for several moments, Cullen playing with the hair that had come loose from her braid. “I should,” she murmured. “Go see Sophia, and War meeting. We need to have a War meeting.” Cullen chuckled, tipped her face up to his and kissed her.

 

“Inquisitor,” Solas said looking up as she walked into the rotunda.

It had been hours since they had returned. She'd cleaned up after her moment with Cullen, called a War Meeting, and then went to visit Sophia. Now, the final item on her list of important things to do when returning to Skyhold was nearly complete. “Solas, do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” he inclined his head. “What do you need?”

She glanced up, knew the sound carried. “Somewhere private?” she asked him quietly, his brows rose, but again, he inclined his head and they left the room, wandered the quiet halls and found an empty room. Amelia held her left hand out in front of her. He looked from her hand and the mark back to her face. “It's spreading,” she managed out. “I noticed it first at Halamshiral, the rift there, it was harder to close. I didn't think anything of it. It had been a long night, I'd been injured.”

Solas took her hand while she spoke, pushed up the sleeve, but the tight jacket only went up so far. “Take this off,” he said and she did. She wore a simple sleeveless tunic underneath, revealing the entirety of the mark.

“It was at my wrist when we arrived in Emprise du Lion.” Trails from the center of the mark on her hand twisted like vines up her forearm almost to her elbow.

“Every rift you close causes it to spread,” he said, twisting her arm this way, turning it that way, all very gently. “It had all but stopped after closing the breach,” he only seemed to be half paying attention to her standing there. “I believe that your time in the Fade, caused something to shift, to change,” his brow furrowed and he gave a little shake of his head. “I'm sorry, Inquisitor. I'm not sure-” he paused. “If it continues at this rate, four months.” He pursed his lips. “If you stopped closing the rifts-”

“That isn't an option,” she interrupted.

“No,” he agreed. “But it would buy you time. Though, not much.”

Amelia withdrew her hand from Solas, pulled her jacket back on and buttoned it up. “Well, then I suppose we'd better hurry up and defeat Corypheus. It would,” she looked away, drew in a breath. “If you would please keep this between us.”

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he said, inclining his head. “But I would suggest that you make at least one of your advisors aware of the situation, just in case.”

“Yes, of course.” How would she tell Cullen? How could she? She believed Leliana would be the most level-headed about it. But how could she keep it from the man she loved?

“I will endeavor to search for a way to stop it spreading.”

“Thank you, Solas.”

 

It was late when Cullen finally tracked down Amelia in the War Room. She stood staring at the table so intently. “It's late,” she said when he stepped into the room. “You should be sleeping.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you,” he stepped up behind her, slid his arms around her waist and for a second she resisted, seemed as though she would pull away, but then she leaned back into him. “What's wrong, love?” He rubbed his cheek against hers and was so grateful to have her back at Skyhold.

“I spoke with Sophia. She has decided she does want to go through with the ritual to reverse Tranquility.” Cullen's arms tightened around her. “She spoke with several people, took their opinions all into consideration. Cassandra is reluctant, not knowing exactly what could happen. There is a chance it could kill her. She won't be who she was before. The emotions will be so overwhelming, I can't even-” her voice broke. “It's her choice. This is what she wants to do.”

“What can I do?” Cullen asked softly, hating to see her hurting.

Amelia shook her head. “Nothing, there's nothing to do. Cassandra will do what needs to be done and we'll see what happens.”

They stood there for a long while, Cullen let his eyes skim over the map, brow furrowed. “You added new pins.” Each one was a small green topped pin and they were scattered all over the map.

“The fade rifts that are left to close.”

“Maker,” he breathed. “There are still so many.” And those were just the ones they knew about. Something wet landed on his arm, Cullen frowned. “Amelia?” he said and turned her around to face him. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Love, Amelia, what's wrong?” He cupped her face, wiped the tears away with his thumbs, but they kept coming. “You're worried about Sophia? Maker, tell me what to do, please,” he said, sounding desperate.

She just shook her head and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Cullen didn't know what to do, so he did the first thing that came to him. She was exhausted, had to be. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the war room, then up to her quarters. Amelia's silent tears were going to be his undoing. He sat her down on the edge of the bed and unlaced her boots, set them aside and then moved up to push her jacket off her shoulders. He folded it, turned back to her and froze. She sat with her hands in her lap and a miserable look on her face.

The mark on her hand had spread. “Amelia?” his voice was cautious. “Tell me what is going on.” He crouched down in front of her, pulled his gaze from the mark to meet her eyes.

“It's spreading,” her voice cracked. “Each rift, it spreads. I already spoke with Solas, he said that he would look at a way to stop it, to slow it down, but-” she shook her head. “It's killing me, Cullen.”

“No,” he said, pushing to his feet, he paced the room and ran his hands through his hair. “No, that is unacceptable.” He cut his hand through the air as if he could command it to be so. He thought of all those little pins. “You'll stop closing the rifts.” But even as he said it, he knew that it wasn't possible. They couldn't just leave the rifts open, with Demons falling out into the world. Turning back to look at her he felt his heart breaking. All that wasted time. He couldn't lose her now.

“Four months,” she said quietly, looking down at her hand. “We have four months to close the rifts and stop Corypheus.”

Cullen hit his knees, just stared at her. Four months. Only four months. He had wanted a lifetime. A family. He'd wanted to take her home to his family. Mia would be so happy.

“We should end this, you and I-” she said, her voice wavering just a bit. “I don't want you to be hurt when- I care about you, so much. But you know this won't end well. We should just-”

“If you think,” Cullen ground out between clenched teeth as he pushed to his feet. “I'll just walk away now, you're wrong.”

“Cullen-” it was a whisper, voice raw from tears.

“If you think that not being with you, not being able to hold you, not being able to help you through what is to come will make it easier when you-” he couldn't say it. He couldn't say the words. Because if he said it, they were true. “Wrong.” He cupped her face, wiped away the fresh tears. “I love you, Amelia. I am going to love you just the same in five minutes, five months, five years.” Tears had filled his own eyes now. “Fifty years won't change it.”

Amelia let out a quiet sob, held onto him. “I don't want to die,” she said, fingers gripping his sides.

“We will figure this out,” Cullen said. “We have resources, we'll figure out something.” He sat down on the bed beside her, then dragged her into his arms and held onto her as tightly as he could. “We have to,” he whispered against her hair.


End file.
